In Memory

It's never easy to lose someone who is close to you. Despite all I know, and all I believe and the comfort that gives me, when it comes down to it..... I miss my mom.

Earlier this month, on September 5th, my mom passed away quietly in Pocatello. She was nearly 82 years old. Her health had been declining for some time now, but still she held on. When I spoke to my sister a few days before, and she described Mom's condition, I felt that I needed to be there.

Bless Todd for making that possible. He set everything aside for us to make the long drive to Pocatello, leaving almost immediately. And it was fortunate, because I was able to be there with both my sisters, when Mom slipped away. I am forever grateful that I was there with her, even though she did not know me or any of us. She could not respond to us, but we could talk to her and tell her how much we loved her. It was enough.

My mind does not bring back images of her in the last months, or even the last couple of years. I see her as she was when I was a child, and she was younger, and vibrant, and anxiously engaged in so many good works.

I see her sitting in her chair with her needlework, or working in the church kitchen for ward dinners, or in any of the countless tasks she performed. I see her leading music, baking bread, hanging laundry on the lines, or working in the church library. I see her canning peaches, playing the piano, preparing a lesson, or ironing pillowcases. (Yes, my mother ironed pillowcases!)

In my mind, she is driving. Not because she enjoyed it (which she didn't!), but because it needed to be done. She is driving a carload of kids to Tuesday afternoon Primary, a handful to early morning Seminary, on a temple trip, or home from the grocery store.

She is lotioning her hands. Not because she was vain about her looks, but because she had spent so much time scrubbing, that her hands would be painfully dry and cracked without lotion.

She is making a banana milkshake for my dad on a sunny afternoon, after school and work is over. She does this little act of love and service for him, as he studies in a 3" thick binder so he can learn to operate the new machinery at work (he was a printer), and therefore keep his job.

She is reading. For hours and hours, she would read. Her love of books was passed on to her children.

She is curling my hair. It's Saturday night, so my hair needed to have curls for Sunday. No electric curling irons for us -- this was with old-fashioned rollers. Later, she'll wash and set her own hair with bobby pins into pincurls. Mom never changed her hairstyle in all of her adult life. Ever.

She is sewing. There's no money for a new Easter dress, so she'll make one for me herself. It is some pastel-colored creation that I will wear with white patent leather shoes on Easter morning.
I wish I had known her when she was quite young. I love photos of her from that era. This was her engagement picture, in 1947:

This is how I see her:

I thanked my mom many times for all that she had done for me. She would shrug it off, uneasy at accepting praise. She reveled in her posterity, though, and always wanted to know what the grandkids were doing and how things were going. She measured success not by her own accomplishments, but by the accomplishments of her descendants.

She held fast to her beliefs and her testimony at all times. She was never demonstrative about it, but we kids were never in doubt about how she felt. She taught us well. In any situation, I could know how my mom would feel about it. There was never any question in her mind, or ours.

I wonder about my own role as a mother. Am I teaching my kids what my mom taught me? Will they value the things which are most important in life? Am I conveying to them my own beliefs, as surely as I knew my mom's? Will they continually strive for improvement because they know their mom is hoping and praying for them?

I hope so.

Rest in peace, Mom. You can finally rest.

with much love,