We had been keeping vigil by my mom’s side since she came home from the hospital this final time. If we are being honest, we had been by her hospital bed for what feels like 1000 times. I do not know anyone who has endured more surgeries, more pain, or more “syndromes” than she had. She never complained; not once.
And she never quit fighting. In the almost 2 1/2 years since her pancreatic cancer diagnosis, she was in and out of the hospital for a myriad of things that should have taken her life. She came back from each one.
This time was different, and she knew it.
The day we moved her back from the hospital to her assisted living apartment, we found out that we had to abruptly move her to my sister’s home. What at first was a punch in the gut thrown by her assisted living place, turned into a blessing in disguise. ( I still will be writing a scathing letter to the management of a place that forces a dying woman to leave her home in her last days on this earth) So in the midst of the move, I headed to Trader Joes to get, as my mom would say, “snicky snacks” and wine (duh) since none of us had eaten anything that day.
As usual, the cashier cheerfully asked how I was.
“Fine,” I said. Then I quickly corrected myself and began to sob.
“I’m sorry. I am not Ok. My mom is dying.”
I then proceeded to tell this poor cashier how amazing my mom is and how hard she fought and that it’s really my mom’s fault that I am telling her all of this because my mom would talk to anyone in the grocery line about anything. Then she gave me a free bouquet of flowers. (Since then I have had another Crying in H-Mart moment and received a free sub. I may just head over to Tiffany’s next.)
We didn’t think my mom would make it through the night that Thursday, so I got in the car late Thursday night and headed to her apartment. My sisters and I sat by her bed, whispered our love to her, and held her hand. Miraculously she woke up for about 2 hours in the wee hours of the morning. She opened her eyes and when we asked what we could get her she said,” I think I would like some chocolate ice cream.” In those two hours, we were able to share memories and tell her again how grateful we were to have her as our mom. And, I was able to share the living eulogy I had written for her. I will be forever grateful that I was able to share this with her.
I read somewhere recently that you should write your own eulogy and read it daily. It’s supposed to keep you on track for living the life you envision. Regardless, it got me thinking of you, mama. What would I say at your funeral? And then I thought how absurd it is to wait until you are gone to say all the wonderful things about you and your one precious life. So, here is my attempt at your living eulogy.
Margaret Ann to her family, Maggie to her friends, mom to her children, and, most recently, mama to me.
I cannot imagine being married at 19 and having a child at 20, but you did. And each time Daddy came home from deployment came another baby. 5 total. 5 humans you fed, burped, changed, read to, disciplined (famously, in the bathtub with a yardstick. And who could forget? Your flared nostrils could stop us in our tracks), and loved. You did all of that mostly single-handedly as the patriarchy was still alive and well in the ’50s and ’60s.
Mom, You nourished our bodies.
You had a full, home-cooked, from scratch, hot meal on the dinner table every night. Fried chicken in white gravy, meatloaf, goulash,roast beef with mashed potatoes, stew with a side of pie crust; the list of favorites goes on and on. I will conveniently overlook the tuna noodle casserole and creamed chip beef on toast. (And how none of us have heart disease I will never know.) But still, every night! A home-cooked meal. Your amazing meals must be the only reason John does not resent having to sit on a stool at the counter while the rest of us were at the table. We are still trying to figure out why we didn’t just buy another chair. And cookies. The freshly baked cookies on the cooling rack on the kitchen table when we came home from school…peanut blossoms, a personal favorite, that now I know were the most time-consuming. Peeling those tiny foil-wrapped Hershey Kisses is why my own kids do not have this same memory. And birthdays. You made each one of us feel like we were queens and a king on our birthdays; fondue, onion rings, and rainbow angel food cake.
Speaking of bodies, ours were always covered in wrinkle-free clothes. Oh my goodness the ironing. Even now I can picture you standing in front of the TV every night ironing endless shirts, pants, pillowcases, and handkerchiefs. Seriously mom? Handkerchiefs! How you had the energy to stand and iron for hours after dealing with the needs of 5 children I will never know. Watching you do all of that taught us hard work and attention to detail, even if we did think you were crazy for doing it. And, you did all that while wrangling 5 children. WOW! Just WOW!
Mama, you loved us by taking care of our bodies.
Mom, you nourished our minds.
I see every day the effects of homes that have not nourished the minds of their children. You provided us with a safe, secure home; the most important thing in a child’s life for brain development. If I can be so bold, all 5 of us are really smart. You nurtured that. You modeled the love of reading and held us to high standards in school. You raised 5 lifelong learners; 5 adults who love to read ( however, none of us will ever reach your level of voraciousness) Oh yea, how could I forget? I am sure having Jeopardy on every night didn’t hurt either.
Mama, you loved us by nurturing sound, smart minds.
Speaking of onion rings reminded me of church…
Mom, you nourished our souls.
We watched you walk the streets of Mill Creek Town helping to create a church from scratch. You modeled community, kindness, service, and friendship. As a result, you raised the 5 of us to be kind, thoughtful, caring, generous, and (most of the time) other-centered. You brought strangers into our home who couldn’t speak English and had nowhere to go,(even on your anniversary-to Dad’s dismay) you tutored the students who didn’t have the privileges we did, and you were the woman at church and in our neighborhood who always saw a need and met it when she could. Just recently I learned you repeatedly drove to pick up a college friend’s laundry who had been in a terrible car accident and would drive it back when it was done. Essentially, you were doing the laundry for 14 people as she had 5 children as well! All of us are now people with souls that try to put goodness into the world because of how we watched you live.
Mama. You were the constant in the stands as we performed and participated in our sports and activities. We could always count on you being the loudest cheerer from the stands. I am sure we had an eye roll or an embarrassed head shake then, but your constant encouragement and pride in us gave us all a solid foundation of esteem.
Mama, you are leaving a legacy of nourished souls.
I do not know how or why I won the family lottery, but I did. You created that family. I have siblings who are my best friends, and I have a lifetime of memories of a happy home filled with love and laughter. You gave us that. You taught us how to live well. Even as you are nearing the end, you are teaching us still. I will never know anyone who is stronger than you.
I am forever grateful that you are my mama, and I am your daughter.
I love you, Mama,
Suz, Suzi, and Suzanne Margaret when I was being yelled at.
Then we sat by her side for another week. Watching the strongest women you know slowly leave this earth is both excruciating and beautiful. My siblings and I shared the responsibility of her care, and we laughed and cried late into the night when we should have been sleeping; moments I will treasure forever.
My jobs were demanding that I head back home. In hindsight, I think it was my mom nudging me to go. For years when I would visit her, she would say, “I think you should hit the road.” Lately, it would hurt my feelings a little bit, but I’ve come to realize she was just thinking of me and didn’t want to be a burden to me or to us. So for the last time, I held her hand, leaned close, and told her again what a privilege it was to be her daughter. I told her how I could never have endured what I have without her showing me how to be resilient. I whispered one last time that I just wanted her to be at peace and pain-free. Then I said, “Ok, mom. I am going to hit the road. I’ll text when I get home.”
She passed away 30 minutes after I arrived home.
Lessons Learned 
Suzi. What a sweet, sweet recollection of Maggie, and the impact she had on your/our lives. Much of what you described I (unknowingly), observed over years around your family. She was the picture of Grace in managing a household of five children fairly close in age. Oh how proud she was, and is, of each of you…..she told me so, in detail, child by child. All told with love in her heart, and a smile on her face. Oh that smile: ever present, ever expressive. She was the mother, chauffeur, disciplinarian, listener, lover, wife, Christian, volunteer, lunch maker, dishwasher, and Mother, Mother, Mother extraordinaire. She occasionally mothered me at times, when I needed an ear, someone to listen to me….and she did. (Thanks for lending her out). She, and Jack, have left a legacy of children and grandchildren, of which they were so proud, and should be. Maggie left this world in a better place because of who she was, and how she lived. She has now passed the baton. Take it courageously and continue the legacy she laid out. I am very confident you will. I love you all.
A very nice, heartfelt tribute to your Mom and family.