From Stephanie
March 2025
I want to thank my long-time survivor friend, Wendi, for posting this on her survivor site today. It’s just the inspiration I needed for this column.
Mom’s birthday is March 4th. Daughter, , Jen, pointed out to me years ago that “March 4th” is a sentence; a command. What a great sign that was for me! March forth I did.
When I think of Mom, I think of all that is in the quote above. She was a very kind, caring person. She left many lessons with me. Often, I speak of her as in, “Mom taught me this”, or” I learned this from Mom.”
I recently went through her cookbook that consisted of all of her recipes, notes of events she’d cooked for, number of people attending the event, and what she’d do differently next time. I chuckled at some of her comments, such as, “I worked all day on this and no one offered to bring anything in the way of help.” That just made me chuckle. I remember her telling me that as she was growing up, women were expected to memorize recipes; that writing them down wasn’t acceptable. Now I go to the internet for recipes!
I have often written that speaking their name keeps them with us. Telling stories about them and hearing stories about them keeps them with us. As survivor of a year recently asked me if there’s a time when “we” should stop talking about “them” because she continues to talk about her daughter. People still shut down. I was able to get her to say, “Oh….that’s not MY problem, that’s there’s.” Indeed it is.
My first career was as a third grade teacher (1969-1974). Mom worked in the same school. She was the librarian soon to be changed to “the learning center lady.” The kids loved her and she loved them. The woman who taught next to me, Marie, was about Mom’s age. I just read last week-end that she just died at 105. Why couldn’t I have had that? Well, if I had, I wouldn’t be writing this now, would I? On this birthday, Mom will be 107.
In August, I was at a church near me for the 63rd wedding anniversary celebration for my 6th grade teacher, Joe Popp, and his wife, Dona. I had Joe’s oldest daughter when I taught. All 4 of his kids knew my mom and each one had a special story to tell me about her. Each story was an act of kindness and love. That was Mom. When the world boar down too hard over and over again for 2 ½ years, she couldn’t fight any more. I believe that each day since her husband died, each day over those 2 ½ years, she got up determined to move forward. As each “blow” came to her, and there were many, she struggled to keep up but finally – at last – had to stop. I know she thought of her 2 daughters, her grandchildren, her sister, brother-in-law, and niece and nephews. I also know she simply couldn’t take one more change.
Not one more change. Not one more day.
As survivors, over the years, we think more of what we had. I had 31 years of her. She was 61 when she died. I remember my childhood as being wonderful, filled with reading and music and laughter. My family didn’t take fancy vacations or, for that matter, many vacations at all and when we did, it was to a rented cabin in Wisconsin on a Lake and I loved it. I went to Camp Quarryledge (YMCA) every year from the ages of 6-12. Mom and I would play canasta. We loved to shop together. We were “besties”. When her picture is before me, she is smiling and the kindness shines from her eyes. I am grateful to have had her. When she so abruptly left me, I was heartbroken and devastated. Somehow the light left me eyes as well.
As survivors, we follow a process/path. Each one of us follows our own unique path but the coming together as a group and sharing our own path helps others to not feel so alone. I think of a book I read a long time ago entitled, “One of Us Died and One of Us Went Crazy.”
I believe that my mission is absolutely to carry her light forward and to live each day, often, for both of us. She’s in my head, she guides me, she is my resource for living a loving life filled with kindness. I can truthfully say to you that I can think of her without thinking of how she died. I think of her life in totality. I would not have traded one day of loving her and being loved by her. Her death was about HER pain and HER inability to move forward any more.
Let us remember the joy they brought us, the days filled with their love for us, and that they continue to now move forward with us. They left a legacy. Honor it….Embrace it
