Another Tribute, But Certainly Not the Final One For My Parents

I remember three things about this picture. First, the
small outfit I wore was wool, and it itched against my skin. I kept scratching with both hands, and dad kept getting after me to hold still for the picture.

This one is a brief point in time, when things seemed so simple. I wish I could ask someone how old I was, but as happy as we all looked, it had to be before my grandfather's passing in the early part of the second week in February.

Dad, according to his own words, struggled when his father died, just like I did.

But it's important to note that he was only in his early twenty's at most. Not only did he grieve the death of his father, but he also had the responsibility of the entire farming operation.

I remember mom's polka dot dress. As I remember, it was a beautiful shade of brown with white polkadots.

At the time, I was just between two and three years old.

For my niece's wedding, mom posed for this picture at the left. I love the green background, because you notice the color of my mom's eyes.

Mom's eyes were green. One of dad's eyes was blue, and the other was blue and a bit green too as I remember. It's funny how you don't really notice things like that.

At least I didn't when I talked to her. One day during a conversation at Legacy Rehabilitation Center, she mentioned the color of her eyes.

Mom's memories were lucid. It was fun to talk with her after her stroke.

She told me stories about dad. She told me about an occasional regret. She told me about thoughts I will never share with anyone, because she came to a realization of things that she realized.

Some believed she didn't know the truth of what was happening about her, but my sister Ann and I know differently. At least that's my point of view.

I love both of these pictures. Mom seems so far from the condition that eventually took her life. It's how I want to remember her.

She is happy. She celebrates life and all it has to offer.

Shortly before her stroke this fall, mom became more fragile and vulnerable.

She and I talked about how close we had sensed dad the last while.

Before I left that night, it was difficult to go. I wanted to stay a bit longer, but it was late. The drive to Idaho Falls was 90 minutes, and during that time, there were often animals on the road.

It's what happens around the time of deer hunt.

Days later mom had a severe stroke.

I'm still in shock. There are moments during the day, when I catch myself wanted to call her to see how things are going that day--if physical therapy feels too much, if anyone came for a visit, if she was well enough for me to go to church with her on the next Sunday.

I'm glad for the time I had to spend with her, for the moments I had in the family noticing all she did for us at home, for the example she was to me. But most importantly, I am glad to have seen mom become so gentle after her stroke. She felt no animosity toward anyone. She loved everything people did for her, and she understood everyone was trying as hard as each one could, given individual circumstances.

I will miss her, yet I realize she is happy now and in a better place. I realize she is with me dad, where she has wanted to be for over 20 years.