When There Aren’t Enough Words…

My mother died today at 5:30 in the morning. Of course, she was in hospice care in Iowa, and I was stuck in Texas. Covid and my poor health stopped me from being there at the end. Fortunately, my two sisters were there. She wasn’t alone at the end.

My mother was an amazing person. She was born in the 1930’s in a little farmhouse in Iowa. She grew up on a farm. She and her two brothers grew up with Jack Benny, Arthur Godfrey, and President FDR’s fireside chats on the radio. It was a time before indoor toilets, television, and fluorescent lights were anything but a rare novelty in Iowa. She attended a one-room schoolhouse with grades one through eight taught by the same teacher. High school occurred in the brick schoolhouse built by the WPA and she played basketball in the building’s basement court for the Rowan Trojanettes.

She attended nursing school in Marshalltown where Aunt Jean was her classmate, and she was introduced to my father when he was fresh out of the Navy during the Korean Conflict.

They were married in January, 1956.

I was born in November of the same year. Nancy, my sister was born two years after that. Mary came along after another two years. David is eight years younger than me.

Michael
Nancy
Mary
‘David
Mom is here in this picture with her surviving brother and her older brother’s wife.

She was a registered nurse for more than forty years. She was married to my father for 64 years until he passed away in 2020. And she was always there for me, my entire life, until today.

God bless you and keep you, Mom. I love you. And I will love you still when this whole world is no more.

8 Comments

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8 responses to “When There Aren’t Enough Words…

  1. Mickey, I am so sorry for your loss. Being a nurse of 40 years is highly commendable. Thanks for sharing your and her stories and providing the family pictures. Keith

  2. You have my condolences.

    My adoptive mother died when I was 21. I remember not feeling much of anything. She didn’t show much affection and completely alienated my father’s side of the family. I couldn’t forgive her at the time for being such a bitter and contentious person. She’d had a terrible and abusive childhood too but that didn’t make my own pain any less.

    My father died about 20 years ago. I hadn’t thought that he was as sick as he was until his neighbor called up and said I needed to get out as fast as I could. I got back to Michigan as fast as I could but it wasn’t fast enough. That hurt.

    My biological mother died just three years ago, literally within days of my discovering my bio-family. She’d live a very hard life with no education, spousal abuse, and extreme poverty. However, even though they never got beyond working-class and some were incapable of holding a job, her children loved her and she loved them back.

    So, I share some of your feelings. But of course, are the only one to know the fullness of it.

  3. Beth

    Such good memories. Let the best of her live on in you

  4. I am so sorry for your loss. I will pray for you and your family. May your mother Rest In Peace.

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