A year ago, today, found me at Mesa's Hospice of the Valley. My mom had been brought there the night before, because her nurse had convinced my dad that she was very near the end and too much for him to take on. She was right. Sara and I stayed the night, while my dad finally got some sleep at home, (really, not much). Sara and I stayed up nearly all night. While we weren't taking care of mom, we were talking. It had become somewhat easy to be normal in mom's presence. She had been rather unresponsive for quite a while and I somehow think that mom enjoyed hearing Sara and I talk plainly about our lives. She used to love chatting with us about 'silly women things'. (Those are my dad's words.)
My mom was, now, in a coma. I think that was Heavenly Father's way of taking away the pain present in her body. When my mom passed away, later that evening, she was surrounded by the three of us, my dad on her right, Sara on her left, and I at her feet. That is always how I have felt, sitting at her feet, looking up at the person that I wanted to be. I will continue to look up to my mom forever. I just look a little higher, now.
In remembrance of my mom, today, I want everyone who missed out on her, to be able know her a little better, so I am reprinting the talk that I gave at her funeral. It was healing, then. Hopefully, it will be healing, now.
A couple of months ago, my mom gathered Sara and I together because she wanted to know that we would be OK with whatever might happen to her. At the time, we didn’t know exactly what the future had in store. It was that night that my mom made us promise that after she was gone, we wouldn’t feel bad for telling funny stories and laughing at silly things she used to do. Today, I plan on respecting her wishes and I hope that you all will as well. After all, I truly believe that laughter is healing. My mom loved to laugh.
Anyone who knew my mom well knew that she took pride in her fashion sense. As Andy Warhol once said, “she had a way with accessories”. And her favorite accessories were shoes. One thing that always made me laugh was the manner in which she’d show us her new shoes. Both my sister and I would take our families to Mom and Dad’s house every Sunday night for dinner and almost every weekend, she had a box of brand new shoes to show us. She’d say, “Wait till you see these shoes,” then she’d run up stairs to grab the box. When she returned, she’d pop them open and say, “Look at these.” Next, Sara or I would say, “Oh, those are cute.” Then my mom’s look would change from pride in her impeccable taste to irritation and she’d pop back with, “I think that they’re really cute.” Our excitement for her shoes never seemed to be quite adequate. And at the same time, she was totally unable to lie and tell us that she liked something if she really didn’t. Over the years she has taught us that Sara doesn’t look good in yellow and I spend too much money on clothes that look like they’ve already been worn out.
Besides her near brutal honesty, my mom could also be very stubborn which led to some rather entertaining moments, most often involving my dad. Growing up, our family took two annual vacations, San Diego in the summer and skiing in the spring. One of the best things about skiing was getting to watch Mom ski. She was the queen of the snow plow. She would turn her knees so far inward that physically, she could only take a couple of runs before she headed to the lodge for a hot cup of coffee. One time, my dad “tricked” (her words) my mom into going down a difficult run. Now, there’s always been a discrepancy in the details of the event. My mom swore it was a black diamond, we say it wasn’t. The outcome, however, we all agree on. My mom ripped off her skis, threw them under her arm, and angrily marched down the mountain. Now, when my mom would get really mad, my dad used to refer back to an old Bill Cosby set in which he referred to his wife’s face as splitting open and flames shooting out. That day, I can attest, my mom’s really did.
But, there was one time that comes to mind when I think of my mom just being silly especially for me. It was kind of like my version of Sara’s Tina Turner story. I was going into my junior year of high school and pom and cheer had taken over my life. I was at the school late one night at a sleepover with all the other pommies and cheerleaders when our coaches called us into the gym for an activity. We were told to all sit up on the bleachers so we could get some instructions, but as soon as our coach started talking, in came running a load of crazy women, dressed in old pom and cheer uniforms. They were whoa-ing and kicking and shaking their pom-poms and my mom was so into it. Turns out they had been practicing cheering and dancing for weeks and I was completely oblivious to my mom sneaking around. I’ve got to say, both her rhythm and her legs looked pretty awesome. She was really excited that she was able to surprise me like that.
The Old Testament says, “to every thing there is a purpose, and a time to every purpose under heaven: a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance,” My mom could be funny and goofy, but she was also so much more. She really was that scripture personified.
My mom was the most selfless and dedicated mother I’ve ever known. I can remember her having my dad drop her off at work when he went early in the morning, just so I could drive her brand new car to school. The ‘purpose’ of that ‘time’ in my life was to feel cool and independent and she was fine with that. She even embraced it. My mom made sure that Sara and I felt like we had what our friends had which I’m sure was often a strain because Sara has always been really demanding. My mom worked a full-time job, but never, can I remember, mom missing a dance recital, softball or pop-warner game or any pom event. And those were just my things. She didn’t miss Sara’s either. And not out of obligation, she really loved it.
When I was 17 years old, my boyfriend of the last six months and the absolute love of my life, was called on a church mission to Camden, New Jersey. To me, Camden, New Jersey was light-years away. A few weeks later, the night came that I had to say good-bye to him for the next 2 years. I can remember him turning and walking away from our front door. I closed the door behind him and just made it to the bathroom before I collapsed to the floor, completely devastated. But I wasn’t alone. My mom dropped to the floor with me and held my head as I cried for what seemed like hours. And she cried too. She loved you, Casey, so don’t feel bad, but, I don’t think she was crying because he was leaving. She was crying for my pain. That’s what kind of mom she was.
And then the time came for her to be a grandma. My mom used to say to other women, “Isn’t being a Grandma wonderful?” To me, having her as the grandmother to my children was what was wonderful. I wish that my children had more time to see just how wonderful she would be to them. When they would feel sick, she would’ve put damp washcloths on their heads and rubbed their temples. When one of them wanted to cut all of her hair off or brush it down into her face because that felt cool, she would’ve let them. She would’ve helped them make sticky, messy popcorn balls every Halloween and put even the ugliest home–made ornament front and center on the tree every Christmas. She would’ve defended every dumb decision that they would ever make and she would’ve supported everything that they wanted to accomplish. She would be their biggest fan and their loudest cheerleader. But, they should never feel cheated.
All of us here today have been so blessed to have had Brenda touch our lives, if even just for a moment. I have never felt so loved by my Father in Heaven as I do now, as I have thought back over the person that was given to me to watch over and take care of Sara and I. It’s hard to accept that my mom is gone, now, but I take comfort in this scripture, “trust in the Lord with all thine heart and lean not unto thine own understanding,” It’s not for us to understand. My mom loved the writings of Walt Whitman. In Leaves of Grass he wrote, “All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses, and to die is different from anyone supposed and luckier.” I’m sure that my mom felt the same way when she was reunited with her own mom in heaven. I wish I could have seen that. She has missed her mom so much.
While I was writing down what I wanted to say today a hymn came to me in a different way than I had ever sung it before, so in closing I’d just like to read the words to my mom as if they were mine own.
God be with you till we meet again, by his counsels guide uphold you, with his sheep securely fold you, god be with you till we meet again. God be with you till we meet again, when life’s perils thick confound you, put his arms unfailing round you, God be with you till we meet again. God be with you till we meet again, keep love’s banner floating o’er you, smite death’s threatening wave before you, God be with you till we meet again. Till we meet, till we meet, till we meet at Jesus feet, till we meet, till we meet, God be with you till we meet again.
Small and sweet, about 15 of my friends and I got together for eating, sharing cookies and laughing. It went smoothly so I have decided to make it a new tradition. Notes to me-next year I'll send out invites and I will NOT have extra sweets! Only some salty snacks to kill off the sugar headaches from all of those cookies.
eating pancakes and breakfast burritos and hot chocolate.
Notice that I didn't get one picture of Sofia singing. She refused to sing. But, that was not my concern. My only concern that day was how to mask the bangs that Fia had cut a couple of days prior. Despite the mullet, I thought she looked really cute.
Every year, my mother-in-law and her sisters and all of their families get together for a big Christmas party. This year, the rotating location landed at my in-laws. Convenient since the rest of the family lives way west, from Glendale to Camp Verde. Since it was our year, all of the Skidmore grankids sang a song and we planned games for the program. The night always ends with the reading from the scriptures of the birth of Jesus. We love this party.
Christmas Day, for us, began at 5:30AM and went like this...
