Mom
As my previous post indicates my family and I have suffered a loss.
To say that this is complicated is an understatement. I do not care
to post the details of the last six months of my Mother’s life, nor do
I care to express the depth of my grief, anger, guilt or loss. I do
however want to thank those dearest to my heart for their continued love & support.
Thank you for dropping everything to be at my side when I needed you the most,
sue_denimme. And another set of heartfelt thanks goes to Sue’s hubby, garnet_took
and her WeeOne and of course my sweet hubby.
What I would like to share is the lovely & warm Memorial we gave my Mother. We
decided not to use a funeral home’s services; instead we did our “own thing.”
Everyone helped in one way or another. It was held in All Souls Unitarian Church
on Saturday, December 29th at 3:00 PM. There were framed photos of my Mother
scattered across a piano and a small photo album. Her cremation urns were flanked
by three beautiful flower arrangements, two of which were selected by Sue, and a
charming photo of my Mother as a child. We played a CD of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
The minister spoke kindly and well of someone he’d never met. Then Sue read a sort
of eulogy that I wrote and a poem that my Mother’s cousin and “Sister of the Heart” wrote.
I guess I found an interesting sort of symmetry in that, as Sue is my “Sister of the Heart.”
I love my Mother but …
When I was little my Mother seemed larger than life.
She was a young, beautiful, charming, talented and dynamic individual.
To my young eyes she could do no wrong.
But my Mother was flawed. Shaped by tragedy, loss, anger, genetics and
a hole inside that she didn’t know how to fix or fill.
Everyone who has ever loved my Mother has felt sorrow & often frustration
at not being able to help, ease or repair the pain of her young life nor
prevent poor and often hurtful choices she made later in life.
I love my Mother but … A phrase I have often repeated over these last years.
But now I prefer to remember Mommy.
Mommy who would let me brush or play with her hair when I was little.
Mommy who would let me stay up to watch Star Trek while sitting in
her “rocky” chair.
Mommy who let me walk to the Market by myself, like a big girl, to
purchase a parcel of meat for dinner.
Mommy who would cook a little baby turkey, which was really a Cornish hen,
for me at the holidays.
Mommy who would lay my head in her lap and gently sooth away my young sorrows.
Mommy and Daddy who stood by me when I kicked the teacher’s shin.
Mommy and Daddy who filled childhood wishes like magic after tossing a penny
into a fountain.
Mommy who would read bedtime stories and sing to me before I went to sleep.
Mommy’s stories of the little house on the hill that she lived in with her Grandparents.
And her stories of climbing trees, picking berries, walking in hip deep snow
to a one room schoolhouse with her cousin Donna, catching bumble bees in flowers
and hiding away in the attic to read on lazy summer days.
Mommy who carried me home after I was pushed into a moving car while
she was wearing a body cast.
Mommy who bandaged and kissed away skinned knees and other hurts.
Mommy who would encourage me to dance, sing and learn to play the violin even
if I should do so poorly.
Mommy who taught me how to wear makeup.
Mommy, who would take me out at the beginning & ending of the school year for
our special lunch where we would speak of my hopes, dreams and accomplishments.
Mommy who has left me with more happy memories than I can possibly list.
Mother was flawed but then so is everyone to different degrees.
And now I shall lay the flaws to rest and remember a young, beautiful, charming, talented
and dynamic individual who was my Mom.
Cousin Betty and Me
Holding hands we walked to school
We faced the chilly morning air
Wearing boots too big for us
And ribbons in our platted hair
Some days we took a detour
And skated frozen creeks
We clapped our hands to keep them warm
Then cupped them ‘round our frozen cheeks
We discovered all the houses
Like homemade morse code
Could serve as guides to finding
The one room schoolhouse road
The broken bits of ice
That shivered in our hands
Let the sun throw rainbows
On diamond covered lands
Our initials in the brand new snow
Recorded each new day
Laughing in the frosty glow
We always seemed to find our way
Our books told all the stories
Of places far away
We talked about these places
We hoped to see someday
Though many roads have since been sought
My heart still takes me there
Beside her on that country path
With ribbons in our hair
By Dona B. Howerton King
My Mother hated funerals and funeral flowers. So instead we gave
her spring meadow flowers and celebrated the best parts of her life,
mourned the sad parts and forgave the rest.
My Mom:
JoAnn
… tomorrow is another day
To say that this is complicated is an understatement. I do not care
to post the details of the last six months of my Mother’s life, nor do
I care to express the depth of my grief, anger, guilt or loss. I do
however want to thank those dearest to my heart for their continued love & support.
Thank you for dropping everything to be at my side when I needed you the most,
sue_denimme. And another set of heartfelt thanks goes to Sue’s hubby, garnet_took
and her WeeOne and of course my sweet hubby.
What I would like to share is the lovely & warm Memorial we gave my Mother. We
decided not to use a funeral home’s services; instead we did our “own thing.”
Everyone helped in one way or another. It was held in All Souls Unitarian Church
on Saturday, December 29th at 3:00 PM. There were framed photos of my Mother
scattered across a piano and a small photo album. Her cremation urns were flanked
by three beautiful flower arrangements, two of which were selected by Sue, and a
charming photo of my Mother as a child. We played a CD of Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.
The minister spoke kindly and well of someone he’d never met. Then Sue read a sort
of eulogy that I wrote and a poem that my Mother’s cousin and “Sister of the Heart” wrote.
I guess I found an interesting sort of symmetry in that, as Sue is my “Sister of the Heart.”
I love my Mother but …
When I was little my Mother seemed larger than life.
She was a young, beautiful, charming, talented and dynamic individual.
To my young eyes she could do no wrong.
But my Mother was flawed. Shaped by tragedy, loss, anger, genetics and
a hole inside that she didn’t know how to fix or fill.
Everyone who has ever loved my Mother has felt sorrow & often frustration
at not being able to help, ease or repair the pain of her young life nor
prevent poor and often hurtful choices she made later in life.
I love my Mother but … A phrase I have often repeated over these last years.
But now I prefer to remember Mommy.
Mommy who would let me brush or play with her hair when I was little.
Mommy who would let me stay up to watch Star Trek while sitting in
her “rocky” chair.
Mommy who let me walk to the Market by myself, like a big girl, to
purchase a parcel of meat for dinner.
Mommy who would cook a little baby turkey, which was really a Cornish hen,
for me at the holidays.
Mommy who would lay my head in her lap and gently sooth away my young sorrows.
Mommy and Daddy who stood by me when I kicked the teacher’s shin.
Mommy and Daddy who filled childhood wishes like magic after tossing a penny
into a fountain.
Mommy who would read bedtime stories and sing to me before I went to sleep.
Mommy’s stories of the little house on the hill that she lived in with her Grandparents.
And her stories of climbing trees, picking berries, walking in hip deep snow
to a one room schoolhouse with her cousin Donna, catching bumble bees in flowers
and hiding away in the attic to read on lazy summer days.
Mommy who carried me home after I was pushed into a moving car while
she was wearing a body cast.
Mommy who bandaged and kissed away skinned knees and other hurts.
Mommy who would encourage me to dance, sing and learn to play the violin even
if I should do so poorly.
Mommy who taught me how to wear makeup.
Mommy, who would take me out at the beginning & ending of the school year for
our special lunch where we would speak of my hopes, dreams and accomplishments.
Mommy who has left me with more happy memories than I can possibly list.
Mother was flawed but then so is everyone to different degrees.
And now I shall lay the flaws to rest and remember a young, beautiful, charming, talented
and dynamic individual who was my Mom.
Cousin Betty and Me
Holding hands we walked to school
We faced the chilly morning air
Wearing boots too big for us
And ribbons in our platted hair
Some days we took a detour
And skated frozen creeks
We clapped our hands to keep them warm
Then cupped them ‘round our frozen cheeks
We discovered all the houses
Like homemade morse code
Could serve as guides to finding
The one room schoolhouse road
The broken bits of ice
That shivered in our hands
Let the sun throw rainbows
On diamond covered lands
Our initials in the brand new snow
Recorded each new day
Laughing in the frosty glow
We always seemed to find our way
Our books told all the stories
Of places far away
We talked about these places
We hoped to see someday
Though many roads have since been sought
My heart still takes me there
Beside her on that country path
With ribbons in our hair
By Dona B. Howerton King
My Mother hated funerals and funeral flowers. So instead we gave
her spring meadow flowers and celebrated the best parts of her life,
mourned the sad parts and forgave the rest.
My Mom:
JoAnn
… tomorrow is another day