Thinking about mom

 

My mom died 15 years ago today.  I don’t always remember the date—I knew that healing was happening when I didn’t instinctively “know” that we were approaching the anniversary of her death every year, and I was glad for that.  Last year I really didn’t notice—between taking our early 25th anniversary trip and getting Russ ready to leave for Oregon, life was crazy and I missed it.

But not this year.   This year I remembered, and have been thinking about her for days.

I wonder what kind of 70 year old my mom would have been.  I wonder if she still would have been active and engaged in life.  I wonder what kind of grandmother she would have been.  I know she would have been delighted to see her grandkids, and I hope that however things work in the spirit world, she can see them now. 

I hope she can see the way that she lives on in all of us, both the good ways and the bad.  (Been late much??)  I hope she knows that every time one of my sisters asks me for advice I am likely to say, “Well, you know what mom would have said.  Have you prayed about it?”  I think she would be happy that that question finally sunk all the way into my heart and became my first response instead of my 3rd or 4th. 

Last night when I wrote to Jason I told him that today was the anniversary of grandma’s death, and that I’d been thinking about her a lot.  I asked him if he remembers her; he was just 5 when she died, and I know I have few memories from that age.  This is what he wrote in his letter to me today:

Let me tell you a little story about grandma. Since you sent me her tithing story, I have used it in almost every single lesson we have taught on tithing. And every time I tell it, I can feel the spirit testifying to me that tithing is a real law, and that the blessings are even realer. Then, when Elder Oaks came to the mission, he taught us that, every once in a while, an ancestor, other relative, or close friend is present to support us in difficult times or to witness the truth of our testimony (in most cases it’s the Holy Ghost, but he said this does happen). I thought a lot about it, and I am sure that Grandma Cindy is there with me every time I talk about the faith that she had to pay her tithing, how she met grandpa, how their 6 sons served missions and their 10 children were sealed in the temple, and how I am the 2nd of some 20 grandsons (that´s just an estimate, I really have no idea how many male cousins I have) to serve a mission. So, I don´t remember Grandma Cindy much, just a couple of memories that stuck in my mind, but I feel like i know her, anyway. 

Thank you, Jason, for sharing that.  Thank you for reminding me that every day I am blessed because of my mother’s faith and determination.  Every day I am blessed by the siblings she was determined that I would have.  Every day I am blessed because I learned how to be a mother by watching her. 

When I left my mom for the last time I knew I wouldn’t see her again.  She was laying in bed and I went into her room to say goodbye to her.  I hugged her, cried, and told her that I loved her so much, and that I would rather have had her as my mom for 31 years than anyone else for a whole lifetime.  That’s still how I feel.

One year my mom and her sisters went and got “glamour” shots.  My mom LOVED these pictures, and because she was delighted by them I loved them too.  But every time I look at them I think that we didn’t need to see the glamour shot—we already knew that she was beautiful. 

Inside and out...