Well, it’s been 30 days since my mom passed away. In the Old Testament, God gave everyone 30 days to mourn and then told them to pull up their boot straps and march on! Okay, not quite in those terms, but you get the picture. Everyone mourns differently. I’ve known some who hardly cry and have all their stuff rearranged within a week! And then, I’ve known some who are still mourning, crying, and depressed decades later. Does the way a person mourns indicate the level of love for the deceased? Absolutely not! That’s a misconception. But you can get stuck so that the rest of your life is affected negatively. If you are still reeling from a loss, whether it is from a death, divorce, job loss, etc., there are some great ministries, such as GriefShare or DivorceCare that can help put your life back on track.
Besides my previous blog post (Another Loss), I waited until the 30 days were up before making a social media post for several reasons. Mainly so we could get through the initial family adjustments…and drama. Yes, with every death and birth there will be drama! And it gets worse with each generation as we push toward the end of the age. We shouldn’t be surprised though; all the chaos, hatred, division, and wars were predicted. Jesus quoted Micah 7:6 where it says that our enemies will be members of our own household! The level of offense was also predicted too! Oh, my word! I’ve seen families divide over the most utterly brainless, dim-witted issues! But that’s a subject for another day… How do families change with the death of a matriarch? It’ll be interesting to see where the new lines begin and end with what’s left of the family. It always happens.
Parkinson’s is an evil disease. Based on Mom’s symptoms, her doctor said she most likely had it for decades, but it was not properly diagnosed. Yes, most people know by now that’s the disease that played havoc on her body and especially her mind. Although we don’t totally blame Parkinson’s for her memory loss, she’s had memory problems off and on since the early 1990s, resulting from a couple of concussions and a few other things. Unfortunately, since she was not diagnosed until much later in life, most people never questioned her many inconsistent stories. God always says to never make assumptions without looking at ALL sides. (Deuteronomy 19:15-21, Proverbs 18:17, Matthew 18:15-17, Timothy 5:19) Only a credulous simpleton will define a person or an incident based purely on one account, especially from someone that suffers from confusion. The most destruction to the family is in not knowing when to believe the stories of someone with dementia or when to chuck them up to their illness. Mom came up with the craziest events that, with just a little digging, could be debunked. A lot of gossip and untruths were spread around, ending up hurting those who were the subject of her latest “story,” especially stories about her parents! As with most people with dementia-type illnesses, she could be thoroughly convincing because she actually believed her latest fantasy. I can’t tell you how many times over the years I was accused of never calling my mother, to the point that I started taking screenshots of my call log! One of the biggest and first indicators of dementia is claiming the ones they love the most never call or visit. They become clingy and codependent due to fear, seeing their world shrink in their minds. The last couple of years, dad would argue with her, “Honey, no, it wasn’t; it was this way!” in his futile attempt to keep some sense of normality about him. But, since liars go to hell, do I believe mom is in heaven? Absolutely! I believe in God’s grace and knowing when a disease has taken over and when someone is purposefully lying. About four years ago, well after dementia set in, I asked her point-blank if she loved Jesus. She sat straight up, her face lit up, and she said, “Why yes, I sure do!” I truly believe that was a moment of complete clarity. So, I choose to remember my mom in her earlier days before any memory confusions, the days in which my kids have insignificant recollection.
The most evil are the people who take advantage of the dementia patient’s condition and swindle their possessions. Just know that the wishes you have while your mind is sound will rarely be carried out after dementia sets in. If you want someone to have something, give it to them now. (Of course, the younger generation absolutely does not want our junk! E-Bay it!) Wills are futile. I’ve even seen attorneys take advantage of dementia patients! I’ve seen the dementia patients of my friends and even of my own family being swindled out of this or that. Self-serving con artists come in and sweet talk a dementia patient into giving them things that had long been promised to others, nullifying their pre-dementia wishes. HELL is going to be a lot hotter for those swindlers!
My dad was blessed, though. A lot of patients with memory issues end up grumpy or outright mean…but mom became sweet and humorous (most of the time), though at times she was cantankerous and a major irritant to dad, making us all laugh! Mom’s personality emulated humor. She married a man with the same humor. She taught us kids how to get through life with that humor. But—I know the backstory! Yes, every family has a few! And some closets should remain closed forever. But for the most part, our family is an open book. Well, at least where I’m concerned. If I tried to keep any of my life secret, my siblings would certainly blab it out! But I could tell you secrets about some of my family that would knock your socks off. LOL! Though they know I don’t, and they know I won’t. But, I digress.
So, how do I want to remember my mother? (My dad and Mr. Watson refused to include any of my stories in the funeral eulogies, so I’ll just post them here.) Hmmm… believe it or not, we all remember people differently because we all have different experiences with each individual. My stories of my mom are different from my siblings’ memories. I guess I should back up before her dementia set in to give a more realistic and complete picture of my mom.
Back to the beginning: Born in the late 1800s, Grandma and Grandpa DeWeese lived right downtown. The neighborhood today is pretty rundown. I have a feeling that it was a fairly average, nice middle-class area back in the 1920s when they bought the little house on Main Street. Grandma always kept a spotless house with flowers and veggies growing over every square inch of the small yard and a cellar full of canned jars grown from that little yard. They were proper people, but not stuffy, nor were they vain. Mom had too much spit-fire Irish in her to be too stuffy! She taught her kids (us) the same as her mother taught her (my grandma on my dad’s side also had the same philosophy), that just because you might not be flowing with money does not mean you have to look like trash! Personal upkeep simply shows gratitude to the good Lord for creating us. My dad most likely spent hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years on her visits to the beauty shop every Friday. Her beautician even came to her funeral! I remember back in the 1960s playing under the dryers and watching her hair roll into those crazy beehives! She wasn’t one for manicures, but she always kept her nails trimmed. Growing up, we always wore dresses with stockings when we went out, especially to church! I don’t miss those exasperating stockings, but I do kind of miss how up-kept people were back then, which is way beyond today’s normal. Mom would have never been caught at Walmart in her PJs! Even when she was being silly, she still had her hair fixed and a bit of makeup on. I always admired the way she looked “fixed up” with simply a little lipstick and rouge! Mom, I promise, I’ll never post a demeaning picture of you! (Yeah, I’ve already written about those “bad picture posters” here: Another Loss)
Growing up, I vividly remember my mom staying up nights working on her latest oil painting, sewing costumes for my plays, and making decorating the Christmas tree fun by letting us girls make paper chains and popcorn strings. She always expected the neighborhood friends to hang out at our house (at least she knew where WE were!). You’ve probably heard about all her many talents by now. Until we were teenagers, mom made most of our clothes. I don’t mind if I never see another rickrack! LOL! No, we didn’t have a lot of money during those days, but we always had access to the commissary so we never went without. She sewed our clothes just because she loved to sew! She also sewed baby blankets for all of her grandchildren. I still have the dresses she made for my oldest daughter, Mom’s granddaughter, for a couple of weddings when she was a flower girl. (Actually, those dresses went in the box I just shipped to my daughter. I couldn’t believe I still had those 38-year-old dresses!) When my parents ran the puppet team, she laid out felt material everywhere, and along with my Aunt Sue, they sewed a dozen or more flower puppets, one of which I have and treasure! And where did she learn that skill from? Her mother, my grandma DeWeese!! The stories of mom only having one dress and a pair of shoes every year were rubbish. In all the gazillion pictures of mom’s childhood, she is never in the same outfit. Grandma loved to sew. I still have half of my cedar chest full of items Grandma sewed for me. My fondest memories of my grandma were of her sitting in her rocker with her knitting basket next to her. Grandma even died at her sewing machine! Unfortunately, all those crafty genes bypassed me! I have failed to pass that much-needed craft on to the next generation.
The first decade of mom’s adult life was spent as a Navy wife. We moved quite often while I was growing up. To me, that was just a normal part of life. My dad was gone for most of my childhood, even after the Navy days. In my younger years, he was on base or out to sea for months at a time, and then there was Vietnam… After those days, he worked two and three jobs because men were taught that love was putting good food on the table and a strong roof overhead, not in building relationships, and definitely not in sitting around shooting the bull. (Unfortunately, the average stay in employment in our society today is only six months, quite the opposite of his day!) Through my teenage years, dad worked second shift while I was in school during the day, so I only saw him on weekends. And you can guess who ran the household… yup! That little spitfire, Redhead! But, when my dad was home, the ship he ran was even tighter!!! I have a child who never got spanked, but tells people what an awfully mean parent I was because supposedly I once “screamed” at her, even though she has yelled at her own kids! Well, my mom did more than scream. She also used a belt, flip-flop, wooden spoon, and just about anything else she could get her hands on to wallop us with! (Well, my little brothers hardly got spanked. LOL!! But that’s another story.) BUT… did I EVER accuse either of my parents of being abusive? Absolutely NOT! It’s called discipline, and I’m a much better person for their kind of love, even despite all the other dysfunctions. For that, I’m thankful. No generation is any better than the last. Blame-shifting stunts maturity. Social experts say that while the Boomers and previous generations are marked by materialism and divorce, most from Gen X and younger live in an entitlement, victim mentality. No wonder this earth is such a mess!
I remember a lot during the Navy decade, my early years. One of the funniest incidents was when dad was stationed in Vietnam, mom was sick, and the three of us kids were shipped to Aunt Naomi’s for a month. After she recovered, the military gave dad a week of R&R and flew the two of them to Hawaii, the halfway meeting point, sort of. That was back in the days when proper women commonly wore wigs. She had a blue wig case that was in the shape of a dome. As she was walking to board the plane (also back in the days before enclosed runways when everyone had to walk outside to board the plane), another jet took off a little too close to the airport. The back-draft tore mom’s wig case out of her hands, and it went rolling down the runway! All the available luggage carriers ran, chasing her wig case all the way down the runway!
My parents had one of the rare, long-lasting marriages in today’s world, though it wasn’t always perfect. They separated once when I was 11, and dad moved out. I won’t say why. Don’t we all have our own issues? I remember being crushed when mom asked if I wanted to live with her or him. Maybe she just wanted to get rid of me too! (Mommas, don’t ever give your child that choice! Let them know they have a home no matter what!) But, after a couple of months, my parents worked out their issues, unlike most marriages today (even so-called Christian marriages!) who look at marriage as a contract instead of a covenant, choosing divorce over the hard work to stay together. Dad moved back in, and at the end of that year, here came my baby brother!! The biggest difference in our family was they both gave their hearts to Jesus and started going back to church. “The family that prays together stays together!” Grandma moved in with us in our little house on 31st Street while mom was still pregnant with my baby brother, making us a very full but very happy home! The main lesson to glean from all their troubles is that they kept to their renewed commitment to become ONE, with God at their head. They were almost too mushy-gushy! They called each other pet names of endearment. We should all learn from that example! (My MarkyMark calls me Norabelle!) This last December 31st, they celebrated their 61st wedding anniversary!! That’s unheard of in today’s world! How sad that my parents beat the odds to stay together, yet every one of their children experienced divorce. So is this post TMI? I don’t know. I am now at an age where I am unaffected by what others think. I’m more concerned that my family learns from the past and stops making the same mistakes. Then, when I climb those pearly stairs, I’ll have my kids, my grandchildren, my family, my friends, and my neighbors following me up those stairs… for the opposite is HELL…
I remember my childhood being full of fun and laughter—that is, until my teenage years hit. Even though I had a horrible rough patch (which I’ve already written about), mom and I were very close in those early years, and we had a lot of fun together. There was that time I was on my very first “official” date, only to have the boy take me home to find my mother (my dad not being home, of course) on the back of the couch with a fly swatter in her hand screaming at the top of her lungs! She saw a mouse. The poor boy couldn’t go home until he got rid of it! How was your first date?? LOL!!
But, oh, the funniest incident I had with my mom was the summer of 1981. That was the year my Aunt Kay and her family came for a visit from South Africa. The whole family was gathering at Pendleton Park for a cookout. Uncle Dave and Aunt Sue were there, along with all my cousins and friends! Mom and I were finishing up the side dishes, so we left a few minutes behind everyone. We filled the back seat of my little brown Corvair and put the remainder of the food in the trunk. As I was starting the car, mom closed the hood of the trunk, and somehow she did not get it latched properly. Yes, the trunk of a Corvair is located in the front! So I was driving down County Road 100 from Pendle Hill on our way to the park when all of a sudden the hood popped up, blinding my view! Mom screamed, I screamed, we all screamed! And then the hinges broke, and the hood flew over the top of the car and onto the middle of the road! We both screamed again!! Fortunately, a Good Samaritan in a pickup truck stopped to help the two women who were painstakingly trying to pull the hood of my little Corvair out of the middle of the road! A few minutes later, my 19-year-old self was driving, slumped down in the seat, and praying none of my friends were in the park that day, as mom was waving to everyone like she was in a parade! After everyone laughed at us, Dad, Uncle Dave, and Uncle Mario took off to County Road 100 to drag my poor car hood home.
Anyway, I’ll quit for now. We could all come up with volumes and volumes of stories about my mom!
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So, the picture above? This is from the time period I love to think of when remembering my mom, before the early 1990s. We disagreed on a lot, but we also agreed on even more. We had a lot of love, and sometimes way too much fun!
THAT’S the mom I’ll see in heaven… soon… :)
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**Highlights in color are links for more information.
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Voice of Restoration 