Mommy

This is my Mommy. Her boyfriend Andy took this photo of her on their first date about 16 years or so ago. She was so beautiful, and this is her in her signature white leggings and big hair. She passed away last Wednesday after battling cancer for almost a year and a half. And yes, I still called her Mommy. She called her mother Mommy, and my daughter still calls me Mommy. And I hope it stays that way! My mother would have been 66 next Friday. My son, her oldest grandchild, shares that birthday with her. For my mom's 60th birthday, we had a surprise party, and we all wrote a tribute to read to her. I can find no better words for my mom than what I wrote then. So I'm posting it here as a tribute to her now. If you don't read it because of the length, I understand, but I think you'll be missing out if you don't!

Mommy,

One time I told you the one thing I remember you teaching me was “You have to suffer to be beautiful.” And you said- “That’s the only thing?”

When I think of that, I also remember sitting in the bathroom while you put your makeup on and did your hair. That was “our time.” It took you awhile to get yourself “ready” so we always had a lot of time to talk then. I don’t remember what we talked about, but I remember enjoying that time.

Mom, you did teach me about a lot more than hair and makeup. You taught me how to dance. We used to dance almost every night. Motown, Oldies, Led Zeppelin, Steppinwolf, you name it. I remember this one song “Crazy Little Momma” that Donna and I liked. She and I used to take turns hiding in a closet, and when you opened the door, we would pop out and shuffle around like an old lady pecking everything with our hands. I guess that was our interpretation of the song. I remember watching the “Tom Jones Show” and we would all swoon and then when he danced we would dance and try to do that back and forth head swinging thing he did. I think we all mostly just got a headache from trying! We always had the coolest mom in the neighborhood.

You taught me how to appreciate beautiful things. Like flowers. You loved flowers and loved growing things outside. Shrubs, vegetables, flowers, whatever. Now I love that too. I love to have cut flowers in my house and I think of you every time I have them.

One of my very favorite smells is the smell of the air right after a spring rain. You always loved that smell. And I think of you when I smell it. I do not drink coffee. But I love waking up to the smell because it reminds me of being small and waking up and smelling coffee brewing and knowing that you were already up.

Now let me pause here to tell you some of the things I don’t remember liking. You drove too slow. When we were late for school, you never drove faster. You were spunky and high energy- but you drove too slow! You wouldn’t let us have a gerbil. We couldn’t understand why you didn’t like the cute little critters. So one day after Debbie Fisher’s gerbils had babies we figured if you saw one, you would think they were as cute as we did. So we brought some of them home in a cookie tin, so you wouldn’t know what it was until we opened it. I guess you were really expecting there to be cookies in that tin because- well let’s just say that everyone within a 3 block radius knew we scared the living daylights out of you. And we knew never to ask again. And you didn’t like when I wore flannel shirts and Boones Farm t-Shirts and canvas boy’s sneakers. I thought I looked pretty cool but you didn’t. So how come a few years later you let me wear enough blue eye shadow to light up a third world country- what was up with that?!

You taught me to take time to laugh. Remember those little talent shows we would have right after dinner when our father was at work? Donna’s hand attacking her from around the corner, and my imitations of Lisa Mott? “Hi- my name’s Lisa MOTT!” I wonder what ever happened to her?

You taught us that if all else fails, SHOP! We spent a lot of time in stores, usually with Aunt Leslie. Two Guys, Great Eastern, Modells, Brunswick Square Mall. I don’t think you bought a lot, but we did a lot of shopping!

And believe it or not, you actually taught us something about nature. Imagine that, a city girl like you. I remember you bring us many times to an automated dairy farm were we got to go inside and see the cows on a revolving platform, hooked up to milk machines. And we also went to some pig farm with hogs the size of bulls, at least that was the way they looked to me! And we used to ride up the Washington Rock and look out over the countryside. You were definitely creative in the ways you entertained us without spending money!

In your own way you even taught me about God. You let me know it was all right to ask questions and seek God. That it was okay to not just accept my parent’s way of believing in God. Because of that I always knew God loved me and that has gotten me through a lot of rough times.

One thing I think we taught each other a lot about is forgiveness. We had to forgive each other a lot of things. But we did and we came away a lot better for it. You’ve been there for me through a lot of stuff, and you have been a great listener and you always let me know everything I said and felt was valid. And that means a great deal to me.

In our first life together we had a lot of fun and great times, and now in our second life we are doing the same. How many people can say they went to a Springsteen concert with their mom! Remember the drunken woman on the train! She really liked you Mom! And what about going to the flower show and the crazy woman on the street that swore she knew you. Boy, you attract some interesting people! And then we went to the Hard Rock for lunch.

So what I guess I’m trying to say is you were a great mom by just being you and showing us how to enjoy life. You taught me about the spiritual things in life and not to take the beauty of the world for granted. And when you said, “you have to suffer to be beautiful” I guess what we never thought about is that sometimes the suffering part of life helps us to be more beautiful on the inside too. And : We always knew we had a cool mom, and we still do!

Love,

Annette March 23, 2003