Mother
MY MOTHER passed on one year ago. She’s been in my thoughts a lot lately. She was a gift to us. I see that more clearly now.
Many fine qualities could be used to describe her. She was beautiful, kind, loving, gracious, sweet, hardworking, industrious, loyal, talented, creative, musical, artistic, faithful and the list goes on. Mother married at eighteen, “almost nineteen” she would say. She was mature for her age. The children arrived one right after the other, most of them just barely over a year apart.
Mother managed to cook, sew, garden, can produce, knit and crochet–and those were the days of cloth diapers! She took her faith seriously, and spiritual training was part of our upraising. Mother was a good mama to us. She really was.
Then life changed for her. Life becomes harder as health becomes compromised. Mother had been suffering from diabetes complications and from a minor stroke, which then necessitated a walker and assistance. She no longer could do life on her own. The pleasures she’d known were no longer enjoyed. When life for her became different, it became different for us as well.
After Mother had a gentle home-going and we said our last goodbye. Next came the busyness of attending to Dad and his world. He became our focus. He had a health event shortly after Mom’s passing. Then therapy and recuperation. I lived with him awhile after he returned home to their ranch home. In December he moved to a retirement community.
Dad talked more about Mom then, saying he missed her, how they had had a good life together, how he’d made the right choice in marrying her. He wasn’t used to life without his partner. Dad wanted photos of her for his room, for his wallet (to show people in his new community), and their photo albums from travels and celebrations.
I didn’t seem to have time to grieve Mom’s passing, though. With Dad moving, there was the house, furnishings, and fixing up to do. It’s taken my siblings and me most of this year to do all that. The blessing in this is that it’s brought my mom closer. Looking at old photos, reading old orchestra programs from Mom’s concerts, organizing, distributing, packing her books into boxes made me see her interests and concerns more clearly. My sister Marilyn and I even took in an orchestra concert together at Mom’s former venue. Nostalgic. Welcome.
Mother’s paintings, oh my. Each of us and our children got two a piece. They seemed most important of all to the grands, as something tangible to remember Grandma by. I came across cards and letters exchanged between Dad and Mom from his time on a navy ship up through recent years, and pictures and cards from her children and grandchildren. They were important to her, tucked away in a dresser drawer for safekeeping.
Mother was wonderful. She loved us with heart and soul. It’s uncanny what I miss. I miss her iced tea, Sunday roast beef dinners, tapioca pudding and homemade ice cream. I miss talking with her about my life and sharing ways I’m active. I attribute my start in writing to Mother. She knew of my interest and wanted me to succeed, and she believed in my message. My books were sent to her relatives with a note from her.
Mom liked to listen to me talk. We chatted at length each visit. She’d also come to my presentations/lessons/classes at my church. She was interested in what I had to say and would comment about it later. I would ask her what she thought about this or that. I appreciated her feedback. I knew she’d be honest with me.
I hope it’s alright to say this. One of the most special times for me was when Mother wrote in a card that she admired me. That was a gift to treasure and cherish. I’m tearing up just thinking about it. I couldn’t quite take it in that Mother had said that about me. I’ve always seen myself as so ordinary in my own estimation. She bestowed on me a timeless blessing that day.
Mother had boxes of fabric, more than we could use. As I let my friends help themselves to Mother’s fabric, patterns, and related items, one of them said she didn’t realize the extent of Mrs. Brumbaugh’s talents, my mom was quiet, unassuming, and reserved. My friends were quite honored to receive the material, and said it would mean more because they had known my mom. The sentiment was beautiful and heartwarming.
Dear Mother, I wish you were here, I love you so. The good times are happy memories now. You’re always in my heart.
