Happy birthday, Mom!

 

 

Today would have been my mom's 85th birthday!  Just like I did for daddy back on his birthday in March, I'll share a few things about her, things that made me love her!

 

1.  She was the most organized person I've ever met!  Yet, despite this, she once managed to lose a bunch of jewelry that she had hidden when we went on vacation.  She didn't find it until a couple of years later, stuffed in a hatbox!

 

2.  I never saw her inebriated or even tipsy, but she did love a cocktail--and it was rumored that in her younger days she could drink my dad's fraternity brothers under the table.

 

3.  She smoked from her college days until 1989, and hid it from her father.  She finally quit cold turkey after I got married, after several previous failed attempts to quit.

 

4.  Mom loved to talk, but even her friends said that she was hard to get to know.  When told that, she was completely mystified. 

 

5.  Raised a Catholic, she left the church when she got married because of she didn't believe in their stand on birth control. 

 

6.  She collected thimbles and amassed a collection of nearly 4000 of them!

 

7.  She had a soft spot for children and dogs--and both loved her.

 

8.  While she often read, I wouldn't have called her a "reader" like I am.  She only read when she had nothing else to do.

 

9.  Until I was in college, she was 6' tall and weighed 110 pounds.  She finally started to gain some weight when she quit smoking.

 

10.  She loved watching football!  One year I took her to a Cowboys game for her birthday (actually, at the time, the owners of the college where I work had a box, and they invited us to go to a game with them.  So, not only did she get to experience her first live professional football game, she also got the pleasure of sitting in a luxury box!)

 

11.  Mom was really good with numbers.  She always helped me with math and would have made a wonderful accountant.

 

12.  When she was in high school, she was in the Rainbow Girls, a masonic organization.  Despite the organization fighting her membership because she was Catholic, she rose to the position of Worthy Advisor (like the president).

 

13.  She didn't start quilting until after my dad passed away.  From 1989 until 2011, she made and quilted over 100 quilts, and won several state fair and quilting exhibition ribbons for her work!

 

14.  After my dad passed away, she began tutoring at my old elementary school.  She tutored there twice a week for 21 years.

 

15.  After I was born with so many physical problems, she refused to let me see any of them as a hindrance or even anything to be considered.  I grew up happily unaware that I was different than anyone else. 

 

Mom was such a big part of my life, especially after my divorce.  I miss her every day and will love her even after I'm gone.  Happy birthday, mom! 

Happy Mother's Day

To all the mothers out there--happy Mother's Day!  You have one of the hardest, most thankless jobs on earth, and yet one of the most rewarding. 

 

I would also like to say a special thank you to my own mom, even though she isn't around to read this.  I like to think that somehow, someway, she knows what I'm saying and how much I still love and appreciate her!

In her honor, here are some of my favorite things about her:

1.  She was a talented quilter.  She had made a few tacked quilts before my dad passed away, but when he died, she started quilting in earnest.  She was a member of her church's quilting group, and entered several quilts in competitions.  For every competition she entered, she won a ribbon.  In one instance, she won Best of Show. 

2.  Not only was she a talented quilter, but she could also paint china, sew clothes, embroider, crochet, and carve wood.  Basically, everything she ever tried, she mastered!  Honestly, it was quite daunting growing up in her shadow. 

3.  A long-time smoker, she quit cold turkey in 1989.  However, she always kept a pack of cigarettes in the house, as though to prove to herself that they could be there, yet she didn't need them. 

4.  She was my Brownie (Girl Scout) leader--and was an amazing one (naturally).

5.  Most of my life, my mom was 6 feet tall and weighed 110 pounds.  By the time I was in middle school, I was too big to wear her clothes.  Obviously, I did not inherit her body type!

6.  She loved to clean house.  Yep, she loved cleaning! 

7.  She really enjoyed working in the yard too.  We always had the prettiest yard on the block.

8.  She loved dogs, and dogs loved her.  That was why I was so shocked that Poquito didn't take to her right away.  Of course, it had nothing to do with her, but it was still surprising.  I was so relieved when he finally cozied up to her.

9.  She liked to read, but she did not love to read, so it usually took a back seat to her other hobbies.  She much preferred to work with her hands. 

10.  If you can't tell from everything I've written, mom was pretty much a "Super Mom," and not only that, she was a super mom.  As I always used to tell her, "You're the best mom I've ever had!" 

 

 

The Last First

After have a small epiphany this morning, I edited the title of this post.  Yesterday was "the last first"--I have now gone a whole year without my mom, completing the cycle.  There will be no more "firsts."  Thank goodness!  The post below is unchanged.

Today marks the sad occasion of the one-year anniversary of my mom's death.  I simply cannot believe that it's already been a year since the events of January 2012.  Those events are so indelibly and vividly imprinted in my mind that it seems as though they just happened a couple of months ago.

 

The morning of her death, the doctors had ordered some type of abdominal scan since she seemed to be bleeding internally.  The nurse called me at five am to say that they were going to take her down to do the test.  I planned to get up and go over to the hospital, but I guess I fell back asleep.  The next thing I knew, the phone was ringing again.  It was just after six, and, with sleep still clouding my head, I heard the nurse say, "I'm very sorry to tell you that the patient expired." 

 

My very first thought was that someone needed to give the nurse a lesson on how to tell someone that their loved one had passed away.  Who says "expired" anyway?  For a brief moment, I thought that I might not have understood her correctly, but then she was saying something about what I needed to do next and asking if knew what funeral home I wanted to use--so I knew that I had indeed heard her correctly.

 

My first thought after hanging up the phone was to thank God for giving my mom well-deserved peace.  I knew that she would not have wanted to live the way she was after her stroke.  She had already been miserably ill before the stroke, and I think she may have been ready to go.  The night before she died, I talked to her, not knowing if she was able to hear or understand me.  I told her that if she needed to go I would be fine--not to stay just for me.  Maybe she did hear and understand.  I like to think so.

 

The next week was a blur of arrangements and funerals, traveling to and from Oklahoma.  And then it was all over.  I was left by myself.  All the while I congratulated myself on how well I was handling the whole situation.  Of course, if you know me--or if you've read this blog--you know that grief hit me hard.

 

I've spent the last year grieving and trying to assimilate two households into one.  For some strange reason, this anniversary, while sad, seems to be a turning point.  I feel as though now that I have gone through my year of "firsts" (first Mother's Day without her, first birthday without her, first Christmas without her), I can move on. 

 

I hope that she is proud of me--even though I haven't dealt with everything perfectly.  I can finally look forward to what's ahead!

My mom

 

Today would have been my mom's 84th birthday.  Although she's been gone nearly 10 months now, I still miss her fiercely.  Just the other day, I was (again) wishing that she were here; more than anything, I miss talking and spending time with her!  I enjoyed the time we spent together.  She was funny and smart--sharp as a tack.  We laughed a lot when we talked!  She always used to ask, "Who's going to make you laugh when I'm gone?"  I don't think that I'll ever find anyone who will make me laugh the way she did.  She was one-of-a-kind!  I was proud to call her my best friend, and I was even more proud to say that she was my mom. 

She was born in Kingfisher, Oklahoma in 1928.  When she was born, she refused to start breathing!  At that time, the doctor's solution to this was to give her a shot of adrenalin straight to the heart.  Happily, it worked, and she started breathing.  Such a dramatic start to life!

Mom lived in various cities in Oklahoma until she went to Our Lady of the Lake College in San Antonio.  Her father was a staunch Catholic--and in those days parents chose both their children's colleges and what they studied.  So, off to San Antonio she went, enrolled to major in Biology so that she could become a medical technologist.  Later she would say that neither college nor major would have been her first choice, but she made the best of things, as she always did, and was quite successful in  the profession her parents chose for her.

When I gathered the courage to speak at her funeral, the theme of my eulogy was her determination.  When I think of her, determination is the first word that comes to mind.  After she and daddy married, she wasn't about to let him renege on his promise to her that he would go to college.  When he wanted to quit, she refused to let him, knowing him better than he did himself--knowing how much happier he would be in the job that his college education would afford him.  Thirty years later, she did the same thing for me--refusing to let me quit Baylor when I was homesick. 

Mom's determination showed in her parenting too.  She always stood firm in her rules, and I never--never--got away with anything.  I once called her "the meanest mother in the world" because of that.  She often repeated that story--proudly!  Mom wasn't mean by any stretch of the imagination (except to my 10 year old self), but she wasn't about to let a child get the upper hand.  Although we didn't fight often, my temper and her determination made for fireworks when we did.  Two memorable battles involved my piano practicing (or lack thereof) when I was in elementary school, and a certain slinky black dress in high school.  I ended up practicing my piano like I was told, and later the slinky black dress was consigned to the back of the closet.  I don't think I ever won an argument with her. 

She showed her determination when it came to teaching me math too.  I was a good student, except when it came to math.  Without really realizing it, I subscribed to the theory that if I wasn't good at something, then I just wouldn't put any effort into it.  When my teacher called her to report on my poor math progress, that was it.  As they say today, "it was on like donkey kong."  Mom took the bull--or the second grader, if you will--by the horns and I learned math whether I wanted to or not.  She tutored me every afternoon before dinner; we even had pop quizzes when we were in the car.  I might not have become a math scholar--or even have liked math--but I learned it!

When daddy died in 1989, I saw her use her determination in order to live a happy life, even though her husband was gone.  The first Christmas after he died, she drowned her sadness in a sea of baking!  She made twenty different kinds of cookies and candy, just to take her mind off the fact that daddy wasn't there.  In the years after that, she created a life for herself, different from the one that she and daddy shared, but a fulfilling, happy life nonetheless.

Her health--despite some "hiccups" was amazingly good until about two years ago.  She started to have one problem right after another.  One would clear up, and after a month or two of relatively stable health, something else would strike.  It was so hard seeing such a strong woman laid low by physical ailments. 

In the days following her stroke, I found myself emulating her determination.  I had to be strong for her, no matter how much I was hurting.  The day before she died, I told her that if she needed to go that she should go; I told her that I'd be fine.

And I am...