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.
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.