A Tribute to my Mother

My mom’s been gone for nearly seven years. When she was alive we had an interesting relationship. We didn’t always get along, but toward the end of her life, we came to many understandings that allowed us to have what I consider a healthy relationship. We began to understand each other and each others quirks. September is always a sad month for me because in 2001 I spent most of the month in Minnesota. My sister and I had to deal with her hospitalization, moving her to a nursing home on 9/11 (yes THE 9/11) and her death on the 17th and Memorial Service on the 20th. Not a fun month.

When I was in High School I took a creative writing class as I thought I might want to be a writer, but was discouraged because the teacher, who shall remain un-named, didn’t like my writing style. Having muckraker or tendencies toward going after things I didn’t like, I wrote a tribute to my father that went after the tobacco and smoking that caused his cancer and ultimate death. So taking the advice of this ‘teacher’ I am writing a tribute to my mother and posting some pictures of her that show her in the best light.

My mother liked to garden. When I had outgrown my swing set, we tore it down and turned the space next to the garage into a garden plot. In the last five years of so of my mother’s life, she let the raspberry bushes take over the space and she grew the best raspberries. I looked forward to my summer treks north and the raspberries.

Mom loved her house and hated having her picture taken. So here is a picture of her on the front porch of the house where I grew up but she’s not happy because she is having her picture taken. That porch is important to me because it is where I spent my favorite time of day in the spring and the autumn. When I would come home from school, I’d go and sit on the porch and listen to music in the afternoon sun at 4:00 pm. 4:00 pm is still one of my favorite times of day. The house was important to my mother because it was a place where she felt safe and at home and could do her crafts, sew, and have friends in for coffee.


Here’s a picture of my mother as a 17 year old girl. She was beautiful – something I don’t think she ever ‘got.’ Since she had me when she was 46 (I was a late in life baby), I always remember her with a splotch of gray in the front and her dark brown/almost black hair. She was beautiful.

My mother had lots of friends. Here is a picture of her with two of her friends. Her friends and social activities kept her going. My mom was always busy doing something or going somewhere and I always remember the house being full of people who would stop by for coffee and a chat. Although she was 83 when she died, there was a huge turn-out for her funeral because she had so many friends. Being a friend is something I learned from my mom.

So today as I remember that difficult day of moving mom from the hospital to the nursing home, I also remember all that she was and all that she taught me and I celebrate her and her life.