For Mom

As I mentioned the other day, in my first post about Mom's passing, I thought I'd use it as a starter for her eulogy.

I did.

Below is my draft.

This is a day we all knew would come.  Death, of course, is inevitable.  And in Mom’s case, though she was a fighter, she was medically fragile.  CHF, COPD, Pulmonary HTN, Macular Degeneration and more wore her down over time.  The last few times we saw her, several of us commented on how tired she looked.  

The end of life, by it’s nature, tends to be sad for those of us left behind.  But, it doesn’t have to be.  I remember, several years ago at the funeral for my Aunt Pearl, the priest said - 

“Some deaths are a tragedy, some deaths are a blessing.  And Pearl’s is a blessing.” 

He was referring to the way cancer ravaged her, how her physical pain was over now and she was finally at peace.  That always stuck with me.  But I’m not here today to get all philosophical with you.  I think most of you know me well enough to know that’s not my strong suit.  

Instead, I’d like to tell you about the time Mom took me to Driver’s Ed class.  She drove.  I was only 15 and on a learner’s permit, she couldn’t possibly trust me with something so important as to drive the mile and a half to Central High School for my class.  My Driver’s Ed class.  So I could learn how to drive.  About 150 yards out of our driveway, Mom drove into a wheat field.  On the way to my Driver’s Ed class.  No damage done to the car or us, she drove back onto the road and finished driving me to school.  For my Driver’s Ed class.  

We were all close to Mom, of course.  In fact, John was so close to Mom, on his first day of kindergarten, when Mom walked him to school, he followed her back home.  He’d rather hang out with Mom, than go to school.  

He’d definitely have had better snacks.

Mom was an outstanding cook.  And she made so many things that are ingrained into all of our recipe rotations.  Potato Salad, Cowboy Dish, my personal favorite - Pinwheels.  Mom didn’t pay much attention to the healthy cooking movement.  If gravy was currency, Mom would be Bill Gates.  But good Lord it tasted great. 

After Dad died, Teri and Penny took many road trips with Mom.  Branson, MO was a favorite place, and they went out to southern California to find where Dad’s parents ranch used to be.  Somehow, they managed to get Mom on airplanes.  She hated to fly.  

She was a nervous traveler in any mode.  Any family member that ever drove Mom anywhere will tell you that, despite vision that prevented her from seeing someone standing 2 feet in front of her clearly enough to identify them, she still “saw” cars, deer, potholes, tractors, children, police cars, you name the threat and she “saw” it and warned you of it.  Most of us learned to apply the phrase Dad used many times...

“Do you want to drive?”

...and that, with a chuckle, would end her attempts at helping us drive.  At least, temporarily.

As far back as I can remember, though I don’t know why, I’ve been told I was Mom’s favorite.  I mean, I don’t blame her.  If I was Mom, I’d make me her favorite too.  But as I grew into the role and all it entailed, I got to spend a lot of quality time with her over the years. 

And we’d talk often about the old days and how much fun we all had growing up.  

And the talk always turned to how much she missed Dad.

“I miss him everyday.” she’d say.  “He was a good old guy.” she’d say.

As Kathi and I were driving home from the hospital in Rockford about 1:00 Monday morning, we talked about Mom.  I really wasn’t too sad, like I said, she was tired.  And to be honest, I’d been preparing myself for that drive home from the hospital for years, just didn’t know which hospital or when it would happen.  I was, however, worried that Mom passing away on Christmas, a day that’s supposed to be about the joy of the season,  would create heartache for some of us.  

Then Kathi said something, that really put the day’s events in perspective for me.  She pointed out that Mom had spent the last two days with almost all of her 16 grandkids and 28 great-grandkids, something she adored doing.  And then, she got to spend Christmas night with Dad.  After 17 years, they were together again.  What better gift could Mom ask for?

We should all be so lucky.  

I hope she likes it.  I think she will.

Merry Christmas El, it's not what we originally gave you for Christmas, but this is now more appropriate than a gift certificate to your local casino.

I Love You.

Ellie and Andy

I've started and stopped this post about 5 times... and this one may not see the light of day either...

I sat down to work on my eulogy for Mom.  It's important to me that I do this.  I've gained a certain amount of experience speaking in front of crowds about intensely emotional, personal things over the last 6 and a half years, I've become pretty decent at it, and it's something I want to give to her.

Lord knows she's given plenty to me.

Typically when I speak there's a PowerPoint running behind me, I don't believe I'll have that advantage this time, but that's OK.

I would like to share a couple photos with the class here though.  For example, this one...

...is Andy and Ellie in Texas, right about the time they got married in November 1942.

Dashing, no?

I can't figure out who Dad was trying to be with that pose.  It's certainly pre-Cap'n Morgan so it's got to be a movie star of the era.  They were a good looking couple, Dad in his class "A", Mom showing a little leg.

My two sisters were born in the post war 40's (sorry, but you can still tell your grandkids you're 39, they won't read this) and my brother (1951) and I (1958) in the fabulous 50's.  As the baby of the family, I was, without doubt, the favorite.  They worked out all the kinks with the other three, so by the time I came along, well, you know.

Mom caught a lot of grief from my sisters and brother about that too, and she denied it until much later in life, when she finally admitted that, yes, I was her favorite.

Just kidding, she never "really" admitted that.  But she stopped denying it, so... potato/potatoe it's still a win for me.

Well then.

Since my stated purpose was to work on the eulogy, and I haven't gotten any closer to finishing that with this hot mess...

Let me close by adding Mom and Dad's 50th anniversary picture...

And finally to leave you with this little pearl of wisdom -

Kids, talk to your parents.  Ask them about their history, the family's history.  Take notes.  Because one day, your kids will want to know and you'll want to tell them.

Grandma Ellie

My Mom passed away last night.

Merry Christmas, huh?

Actually, upon further review, this was the best Christmas she could've had.

Allow me to explain...

Eleanor Marie (Rakow) Mains, was born in the house my grandparents lived in, in 1922.  The youngest of her family, she often talked about how my grandmother spoiled her and sheltered her.  That kind of set the precedent as it turns out, because after she and Dad married in 1942, he doted on her.  My Dad was the most patient person I've ever known.  A trait I wish I'd gotten more of. But he always took good care of Mom.  She was, shall we say, demanding at times.

And I don't say that as a way to run her down.  Mom had certain expectations and if they weren't met, you heard about it.  She was opinionated, stubborn and quick to anger.. But she was also quick to forgive and forget; loving and protective of those she cared about.

She often found herself the butt of jokes, a position she never feared.  Mom rarely drove.  She had a driver's license for probably 50 years but Dad drove everywhere.  The last time she drove, was when I was 15 and, ironically, she was taking me to school for a Driver's Ed class.

We ended up in a wheat field...

She just drove off the road...

We weren't hurt, she drove back onto the road and finished the trip, but that was the last time she drove.  That never stopped her from being a first rate back seat (front seat actually) driver.

Nor did failing eyesight.

By the time she reached her late 70's her macular degeneration had gotten the best of her.  She would often ask us who someone was, she wasn't able to clearly see their face.  But rolling down the road at 55 miles per hour she could "see" a car at a crossroad or coming out of a driveway and warn you

"Watch that car up there!"

We all applied the question Dad used many times, knowing the answer as he did.

"Do you want to drive?"

She'd laugh and say

"No, I don't want to end up in the wheat field again"

And we'd continue on our way.

Mom was an excellent cook, if you were willing to suspend the whole "healthy eating" movement of the last 40 years.  Everything Mom made, came with homemade gravy.

And it raised your cholesterol level when you looked at it.

And it was awesome.

There are so many things that she made, most of which have been passed down to family members, that it's not an easy task to choose, but to me, if the streets of heaven are lined with anything, it's vendors giving away Mom's pinwheels.  Pinwheels, for the uninitiated, are made from Bisquick and leftover roast.  And they are nirvana in a meal.  That was actually about the only way I ate vegetables when I was a kid, they were ground up so finely in the pinwheel mixture, I didn't care that I ate pieces of carrot and celery.

When Dad passed away in 1995, Mom continued to live in the little apartment they shared.  Even as her health slowly deteriorated, she stayed there, for 15 years, until she finally reached the point where she couldn't live alone anymore.  Mom, my sisters, brother and I looked at several assisted living facilities as possible new "homes" for her.  But none seemed right.  So sister number 2 decided Mom should move in with her up in northern Wisconsin.

My Mother the Cheesehead.

My sister had no medical experience whatsoever and she felt a little intimidated, I think, at least at the start.  But she did a great job with Mom and they adored their time together.  My sister often told me she felt bad, the whole time Mom was down here the burden of her healthcare issues; doctor appointments, hospital stays, runs to the pharmacy, well being checks, etc. fell on one of us and she was unable to help.  This, she felt, was her chance to help in Mom's care.  Mom flourished under my sister's care.  And I believe she did far better up there than she would have in any assisted living facility.

But, as Christmase Eve turned into Christmas Day and all the different family parties ended, it came time for Mom to go back to the hotel where they stayed during their visit.

Without going into details, Mom stopped breathing during the car ride.  The granddaughter that was driving her is an experienced EMT and did everything right, but Mom had had enough.

She was pronounced dead at the hospital.

So for her last Christmas, she was able to see most of the 16 grandkids and 28 great-grandkids and that was always her favorite part of coming home to Illinois.

But the best part, I think, for Mom was that finally after 17 years, she got to see Dad again.

What better Christmas gift could she ask for?

Here's Mom with one of her grandkids, pretty sure the date is accurate.

Rest easy Ellie, I love you and we'll miss you.