Root Beer Cheers for Mom
There are so many details I can remember clearly about my mom - including the sound of her voice & laugh, and the feel of her hands. She’s only been gone a week now, and I think what I’m most afraid of is losing those clear memories that I can call back and replay on demand in my mind.
I remember…
Wanting that cute pair of wooden sole Dr. Scholls shoes as a kid, and her offering to pay me 1 cent per quilt square I cut for her — she taught me the value of hard work and reward… and I loved the shoes twice as much because I earned them myself.
Playing piano at church with her across from me playing the organ, and how she could transpose a song on the fly (because she could play by ear) if the choir director thought the key was too high, and I had to let her run with it because I could only play the notes on the music in front of me …
Driving up the driveway and seeing her come out the door to eagerly greet me from the deck with a “Hey!” rather than waiting for me to knock on the door…
Her saying “I’d like to know…” about just about anything — politics, weather, wildlife, world events, etc. because she was innately curious and really wanted to know what she didn’t already know…
Her wearing brightly colored clothes, and mastering the art of not really caring what people thought of her clothing combinations. Never would you catch her wearing dull black or gray…
Receiving birthday and Christmas cards with a thoughtful handwritten sentiment from her, and usually as a bonus there would be a tidbit of the latest gossip, often about people I didn’t even know…
Fearing that cancer would take her 17 years ago and seeing her conquer every challenge in front of her, only to fight those same battles again 17 years later in the midst of COVID, every bit as determined as the first time because it meant spending more time with her family…
Spending hours at her bedside during her last 2-week hospital stay, and the notes she would write to me on a clipboard because she couldn’t take the oxygen mask off…sometimes serious questions about the seriousness of her health condition, sometimes just commenting on how Natalie’s prom went…
Her asking me for root beer when I asked if there was anything she wanted to make her more comfortable — and remembering how I chuckled because I’d never remembered her drinking root beer before…
Feeling her hand grab mine and telling me “You’re a good kid,” when I brushed her hair that last night we were together….
So many memories I don’t want to fade — a few painful ones that I would rather forget from those final days, but through it all she stayed strong and only wanted to stay longer.
As we head to her memorial, I can’t help but think about everything I’m not ready for — the finality of her memorial service; not getting her funny handwritten cards; not hearing her laugh or her “Oh heck!”; her weird-looking tea with miscellaneous fruit juices in it; her daily tracking of sunrise and sunset times, and detailed odometer tracking on road trips; etc. Mostly I’m not ready for the reality that I’m now the matriarch of the family — I’ve been so accustomed to having her there to tell me stories and share her wisdom, and I feel like I should have known to record it all.
Regardless of times we didn’t see eye to eye, Mom loved me unconditionally and I know she was so proud of all of her kids and grandkids. Now following in her footsteps, I suppose I had better carry the torch and send silly gossip tidbits in birthday/ Christmas greetings, stop caring so much whether people like my outfits, and always bring root beer to family gatherings. Mom will always be there, and I’ll be watching for those clues that she is nearby.
Thank you, Mom, for always putting our family first, for serving in so many roles in our family and in the community, and for showing us what courage and a lifetime of love look like. We all miss you… I miss you.
Root Beer Cheers & Love to You,
Jo
