Last Sunday was Mother’s Day, and I started thinking that I had spent several blogs talking about my father. But my mother was just as important in forming my character as my dad. Though not always as fun as fishing and hunting, she held our family together. When I spoke at her funeral in 2010, I talked about her devotion to her family.
She demonstrated this devotion in many ways that I remember. As a boy growing up, I remember she always got up early and fixed my dad’s breakfast and packed his lunch before he left for work. Then in the afternoon, before my father got home from work, she would clean up and put on nicer clothes. It seemed she always wanted to look nice for him. She cooked our dinner wearing an apron and cleaned up afterward. She set a high standard for my future wife as you can imagine. I was in for a surprise.
Dinners usually consisted of a meat, roasted or fried; a canned vegetable, peas, corn, or green beans; a lettuce salad with homemade salad dressing; and potatoes usually mashed. She was a very good cook, which also set a high standard for my future wife. (I was not disappointed.) Occasionally she would fry liver and onions as the meat, though I think I was the only one who liked it. I don’t think she even liked touching it, but she still fixed it for me.
Of course, since my dad fished so much, she could fry fish better than anyone I know. I can remember sitting at the dinner table after everyone else was finished, stuffing myself with fried fish. It didn’t matter if it was trout, crappie, catfish, or other fish. Even today, her grandchildren rave about her fried fish. She also taught me how to cook, which pleases my wife especially as we get older.
Though she rarely worked outside the home, she did work sewing at home. She sewed square dance dresses and skirts, and for a long time, she sewed Barbie doll clothes. When my daughters were young, she sewed dresses for them. Every Easter they would get new homemade Easter dresses. She even made my wife’s wedding dress. I don’t know if my wife was happy with it, but it saved us some money at that time.
When she got older, after my dad passed away, she developed dementia, Alzheimer’s, and we put her in an assisted living facility. As her dementia progressed, it was like losing her a little at a time. Often when I would visit, she wouldn’t know me, and we would just spend a few minutes walking around the facility. She would talk about getting a sewing machine and setting up shop on Commercial Street in Springfield, Missouri where she grew up. She didn’t seem to remember my dad or much else after her young adulthood.
Before her death, she was taken to the emergency room because she had fallen. She was pocketing her food, chewing it but not swallowing. She was very frail, and the hospital is the worst place for someone with dementia. They don’t understand what is happening and they are being forced to do things they don’t want to do or have done to them. I went to visit her one morning soon after and found her lucid. She knew who I was, and we sat and had breakfast together talking that morning. Less than a week later she died.
I remember that morning and feel it was a gift from God, a reminder of the mom I knew. It is hard to write about her passing because she was such a special person in my life. I am sitting here typing with tears in my eyes remembering her.
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