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The last time March 13 fell on a Friday was the day Mom died — Friday, March 13, 2009. It had been a day of watchful waiting for Daddy, Donnie, Melody, Joseph, and me…knowing that the time was close and wanting her to stop hurting, but so dreading having her gone. And yet when the time came for her to join our family members in Heaven, it was a quiet, peaceful moment of release from pain and earthly cares. I wouldn’t want to do that day over, but I am eternally grateful that Mom was at home in the midst of her family — in the living room, actually — rather than in some hospital among strangers.
In the six years since she died I have called on her for help so many times, and prayed for the wisdom to approach things from her always unique perspective. She is the strength I draw on when I don’t know which way to turn, as well as the one I credit for my serendipitous decisions. My biggest regret is that she wasn’t here to see me living happily on my own or here with Georgia and her family. But I think she had a lot to do with my life-changing decisions, as I realized with her passing that I shouldn’t spend any more time spinning my wheels.
I’m posting a photograph of Mom with the Lionel train she got for Christmas 1980 (she had wanted one since she was a girl), because it says so much about her free spirit. Just looking at this picture makes me smile.
Mom and her Lionel train, Christmas 1980.
I’m staying tonight at Aunt Betty’s before going to Stamp Camp tomorrow. We will share stories and more than a few tears. With Mom gone, her big sister has lost the person who filled in the blanks in her family memories. I am a poor second choice, but I still remember so many things that no one else does.
I don’t want this to be a sad post, because Mom wasn’t a sad person and wouldn’t have wanted that. She actually wouldn’t want me commemorating the day in any way. She always said, “I only remember birth days, not death days.” But nobody else can fill the hole in my heart, so I will always remember this day. Happy 6th birthday in Heaven, Mom. We love you.
Mom and her girls, February 2009
triggershorse 
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Hugs back to you – Fawn
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Oh, Fawn, my heart goes out to you. I know what it’s like to lose your mother. My mom died 27 years ago, when I was 30, and yet I’m still grieving her. All of my aunts and uncles on her side are now gone, which also makes me sad because I can’t share memories with them — the only ones who really remember my mother and can answer questions I have about her past. For me that’s one of the hardest things, not being able to talk about her, to keep her memory alive. That’s why I write about her so much. I’m glad your mom passed on in the comfort of her own home — I wished that for my mom as well, but it didn’t happen. And like your mom, mine didn’t want me to focus on all the negative stuff “at the end.” I think your post here and these wonderful photos is a touching, up-lifting tribute to her … one about which she would be very grateful and happy.
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Thank you, Deb. I can’t imagine having to become an adult without my mom’s good counsel. My Georgia is 30 now, and that is way too young to not have mom alive. My husband-who-lives-across-town’s mom died when he was 32, and he has been terribly lost in his grief since then.
I am at Aunt Betty’s now, staying out of the way as she gets Uncle Phil situated for bed. The middle of five children, she at 86 is the only one living. She and Uncle Phil just celebrated their 66th anniversary. One of the family jokes is that 4 of the 5 siblings were married 50 years or more, and the fifth one was married 5 times!
One of the most humbling things I have ever seen is the tireless way she anticipates his every need and puzzles her way through the mood swings of his dementia. When I say I don’t know how she does it, she says, “Love keeps us going. “. I wish that kind of love for everyone, but it is so very rare.
– Fawn
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What a wonderful woman your aunt is, Fawn! Caregiving can be so very difficult, but your aunt seems to have a great attitude and appreciation for the “gift” she’s been given to do. Bless her heart. I so miss my aunts — they were the “connection” to my mom (although my one uncle, Uncle Park, was very close too). I hope you have a terrific time at your weekend outing — technology or no! 🙂
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