My mother passed away yesterday. She was in her late nineties. She stood about five four, the granddaughter of western pioneers: she was born in an Oklahoma farmhouse just after statehood, and didn’t have a birth certificate until it began to matter. She grew up on an Oklahoma farm, rode to a one room schoolhouse on a horse, and was so tiny they had to put books under her feet so she could use a regular desk. Around the time of the Oklahoma dustbowl, she was introduced to my father, who worked at the local icehouse, by the nephew of Cole Younger, who rode with Jesse James. She and my father worked in Washington, DC, my mom in the US Bureau of Engraving, where she helped handle the huge wet sheets of special paper, under presses that could take a hand off, working with no mask, in a constant aerosol of inks.
By the time I came along they were living in St Louis, and they found their way back to Oklahoma, close to their parents, by the time my brother was born.
My mother loved taking care of kids. She worked in the church nursery for years and years. She and my dad loved camping, and they did a lot of it, finally building a lake cabin with their own hands. Her health began to go, slowly at first. But she survived five bouts of cancer, radiation, chemotherapy, you name it, and remained active. In her mid nineties she began to lose her sight, which was her greatest trial. She loved housekeeping, and insisted on doing it herself. Which pretty much describes her attitude toward life. She viewed horses as transportation and saw men walk on the moon. She died of just plain old age, refusing a hospital, which is a pretty good life.
We love you, Carolyn. (((hugs)))
5’4″? Aren’t you giving her a couple of inches? Maybe it’s because she always seemed so much larger than she really was.
Lois was a tough, independent, caring individual who raised two amazingly creative, great kids, and when I moved down to OKC, welcomed me into her home like one of the family. She beat the odds with cancer that should have taken her in six months and went on for twenty more healthy years, give or take another couple of bouts with cancer, which only slowed her up for a bit.
And having proven she could beat those odds, she stuck around to help raise her grandchildren, and when that was done, and her youngest grandchild had moved past the child stage and into the teenage years, she ran out of things on her todo list in this life and decided she might as well move on to a new list in the next.
Even then, she waited to go until after Shejicon. Somehow she knew, and wanted to make sure Carolyn got the chance to have that great time with new friends. I guess that would be the last thing on that todo list.
And she was beautiful. Just this March, when we were down there to visit, she was getting terribly frail, but she still had the skin of a woman thirty years younger.
I’m lucky to have known her.
Carolyn, BTW, is doing fine, as is her brother David.
{{hugs}} I am sorry for your loss.
So sorry for your loss. She sounds awesome – tough, creative, resourceful. She must have been so proud of you.
a very good life.
condolences
My gosh, Carolyn. I can’t imagine the feeling of losing a parent. I just lost one of my younger brothers on this past Wednesday, but that’s still not the same as losing a parent. Having your first teachers gone forever is a hard thing to take. My mother taught me to read, my father taught me how to be responsible.
Many hugs and condolences to you.
I heard about your loss, Joe, and I am so sorry.
Gosh, it’s a tough year for everyone. Condolances flying back to you on your brother. That’s tough. I lost my oldest brother many years ago. He and my sis were the only ones of my family to share my love of SF. He got me started on Marion Zimmer Bradley’s books, and read mine religiously as they came out.
I’m sorry for your loss Carolyn. She sounds like she was a wonderful lady. My prayers for you and your brother.
Lost mine at 78 a few years ago, she passed on still wearing her baseball cap, jacket and blue jeans.
Losing your last parent, it’s a thing. For all the pleasure you’ve given, anything you need, just ask.
Thanks, all of you.
oh gosh, yes, a stage of life, being without parents. your mother was lucky to have such a great old age (mine died at 82 after 7 years of going downhill with Alzheimers)but I am sure she will be hugely missed, and my sympathies for that.
My condolences to you and your family. Rosemary
:hugs:
My sympathy to you and yours on your loss.
There can be few harder things than to lose a beloved parent. No matter you knew it was coming, it is still a shock from which there is no recovery. And nothing helps. But for what it is worth, we are all thinking of you and sending you all our warm feelings.
I’m so sorry. She seems to have lived a wonderful life!
She sounds like the very model of Ilisidi–a power figure, much like my maternal grandmother.
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My heartfelt condolences to you, CJ.
I am so sorry, CJ. She was an extraordinary woman who relished life. May those thoughts bring you comfort. ((hugs))
What a gift of grace that she was able to leave this life in such a fashion – on as close to her own terms as is possible. Hugs to all.
It is a bit dizzying when one finds oneself at the peak of the family tree.
There is nothing good to say. I’m sorry.
I am very sorry for your loss. I lost my mother 2 weeks ago yesterday after a short illness and years of declining health. My younger sister and I were her caregivers for the last few of years and while it was no surprise it was a shock.
My thoughts are with you.
Phil Brown
And ours with you…all of you in this singular stage of life, which seems to be no few.
Big virtual hugs.
J
my deepest sympathies. I just lost my mom very recently too. best wishes