So many GITS have expressed heart-felt condolences at the loss of my Mother that I feel the need to write one message of thanks to all.
Mom would have turned 93 in September, so she had a very long and fruitful life, filled with love.
Her love affair with Dad was the stuff of romance novels. She was engaged to a fine young man who took her to the 1941 Forester's Ball. Neither of them were interested in forestry, but the Forester's Ball was such a grand annual affair that it was covered with a big spread in Life Magazine.
There a very handsome Marine sergeant asked her to dance the Dance of the Blue Snow, a slow waltz finale usually reserved for lovers. He was the local recruiter doing a land office business signing up new Marines just after Pearl Harbor was attacked. His ship, the USS Northampton, survived the attacked by being at sea on December 7, 1941. He, of course, had already been ordered to recruiting duty in Missoula and Butte, so he survived the attack as well.
To make a long story short, when the Forester's Ball was over Mom announced to her mother very emphatically, "I've met the man I'm going to marry!"
Her mother (My Grandmother whom I called Momma Marge) said "Of course you have, you're going to marry Bob S."
"No I'm NOT! I'm going to marry Jimmy E!"
A few weeks later, the Marine took Mom to the Marine Corps Ball in Missoula. There, in front of all his military comrades, he asked her to marry him, and, guess what, she said "Yes!"
That was November, 1942. Momma Marge did not at all like the idea of her daughter ditching Bob to marry Jimmy. But sitting next to the Marine at the First Baptist Church while Mom sang a solo from the choir loft, Momma Marge felt his muscles tighten up. At that moment, Momma Marge relented and gave her blessing. (Mom had a classically trained soprano voice that was so beautiful she was appointed to sing from the bell tower at Main Hall of the University of Montana during her graduation ceremonies.)
December 25, 1942, Christmas Day, the Marine and the beautiful girl with the beautiful voice were married. The following late summer 1943 they honeymooned in Yellowstone Park.
Dad was then ordered to Cherry Point, North Carolina to train as a glider pilot for the invasion of Japan. That program was abandoned and he became a navigator/bombardier on a medium bomber the Marines called the PBJ. Most people know it as the B-25 Mitchell. His anticipated mission, the invasion of Japan, remained.
Less than a month before D-Day, when the Allies invaded Normandy, and nine months after her honeymoon in Yellowstone Park, Mom delivered a baby boy in Morehead City, NC. That was 67 years ago next Monday. I am now officially elderly, facing my first Mother's Day without a mother. (I became a forester quite independently of Mom and Dad's romance that started with the Forester's Ball. I took several girls to the Forester's Ball myself, but I never married any of them.)
Germany and then Japan were both defeated, but Dad never experienced a single day of combat in his eight years in the Marine Corps. He mustered out in 1946, just after my sister Maggie was born in Camp Lejeune.
Dad went into business with Momma Marge and formed the General Appliance Company in Missoula, where he sold General Electric appliances, some of which are still in service after almost sixty years. He sold that company to the kid who swept the floors, and that kid turned it into a large store that is still in business selling appliances.
My brother and youngest sister were born in Missoula. All four of us are married in stable and happy relationships. Mom and Dad's example played a profound role in the success of our marriages. My brother Bill gathered everyone to the Marine Corps Ball several years ago and popped the same question to his beloved that Dad had asked so many years ago. She too said yes.
Dad died in 1995 at age 81, after dancing the weekend, singing the Marine's Hymn, and taking the second of three qualifying solo flights to achieve his lifelong dream of being a pilot. He got up, made the coffee, and died on his feet in his own little piece of Heaven with no warning and no suffering. Would that I have the same graceful exit. Dad never, not even once as far as I know, never raised his voice to Mom even at her worst moments. I have failed in that many times.
Two weeks ago today I received a call from my youngest sister who said Mom had a stroke and was in the hospital. The stroke was so severe there was no way Mom could survive it. Feeling very light-headed, I prepared to go to Missoula with my wife. We left the same day and arrived an hour or so before midnight. My eldest sister and brother arrived by plane from the East Coast Saturday, and we each in turn kept our vigil with Mom in her hospital room.
I had the distinct impression that Mom was reaching through the shroud between Heaven and Earth, and Dad was on the other side reaching to take her hand. I said "Mom, if you're talking to Dad tell him I love him. It is OK for you to go to him now."
Mom's body, if not her soul, remained struggling on earth through Easter Sunday and Sunday night.
On Monday just before noon a harpist from Hospice came to her room and played for an hour while her four children and several grand children let the flood of tears come.
I myself experienced something very like flipping through an album of every experience I ever had with Mom over my 67 years, hundreds of them one after another without pause, in vivid technicolor.
Everyone present just let the tears come. I truly believe it healed us all so profoundly that we were able to cope with the grief and stress quite successfully. The harpist, whose voice matched perfectly with his instrument, was visibly moved. He said "There's so much love in this room."
Mom's heart beat so valiantly I could see her pulse through the sheet over her body. It went on like that for a couple of hours, and I decided to leave for a while. While I was away, my wife called on my cell and said to come right over--that Mom was gone. It was 4:25 pm, the day after Easter.
The rest of the week my siblings and I gathered at Mom's residence to deal with necessities according to her wishes.
Many of her fellow residents at the independent living facility where she lived approached us to express how they felt about Mom, her lovely spirit and beautiful smile. We were all quite moved. Friday we had a simple gathering of her friends and family, and many of us expressed our fond memories. There was no funeral, but we plan to have a celebration of her life next summer at Flathead Lake.
My oldest sister and brother left for the East Coast on Saturday, and I stayed with my wife and sister and brother-in-law to distribute her very fine clothing and other belongings to Goodwill, and to clean up her apartment.
My wife and I returned home Thursday, yesterday, very exhausted and grateful for the life my Mom and Dad gave to us. My wife was very supportive, and I truly believe our relationship doubled its strength during this experience. She still has both her parents, for which I am very very grateful.
That's all I can think of to say, except "Thank you very much GITS and all my SI friends for your expressions of condolence and concern."
Love, ManyMoose |
