mom . . . august to december . . . 2nd to 30th . . . 88 years

as i share with the congregations with whom i serve, "word has reached us...."  and so that word came to me last night about my mother having died.

in her time, she moved from arkansas to bakersfield to san francisco to daly city to walnut creek to south san francisco to millbrae . . . and now to the golden gate national cemetery, in earned with dad on that spiral hill, #13 .  good natured in these last years; everybody like her (really!); even with health issues up the ying-yang, she had a funny little chuckle, euva jean did; in school the gym teacher called her pease.  but she was mom.

we lived through challenging times, as many family systems do, but she kept going.  she retired from i magnin ... classy and knowledgeable in that sense; known to make mock enchiladas, red velvet cake, and 'garbage soup' from the wonderful left-overs in the refrigerator.  she'd hum tunes, read, and was always doing housework -- can a house get that dusty in just a week?!  she'd always want to know 'the reason' for everything . . . . and the reason could often displease her.  she shared and also withheld; probably not unlike the women in her family before her.
but, she was mom.  i'll never have another. 
      

mom and dad were married until his untimely death in 1982; but this picture of them is a favorite from one of those church pictorial directories that were done at temple united methodist church in san francisco in the 1960's, when dad had hair and mom wore her hair in a french twist.  she would wear this green dress on special occasions, with a jade pendent and matching earrings, and 'glass slippers' (so I called them); she'd paint her nails, apply ponds cold cream a touch of something around the eyes and lipstick, and away they'd go.

relatives would come to visit sf in it's hay-day, and i'm sure tell stories about going to height-ashbury; they'd cook together; rode the jitney to bart together, and made plans to retire together.  but those plans never materialized, and from that point on, mom seemed to exist, but never really live. . . .  at 88, mom was truly the 'older woman' by six months from dad.

so you do all the things you do at this time; alert the family, make arrangements for the graveside service....and then i realize, i'll probably be doing that service . . . . mom's service; i do it for others -- why not mom?!

honestly, i've grieved for mom in so many ways for so many years.  it is the complication of a family system that not always embraces diversity.  and so one learns to live with the reality and create a more welcoming place -- of self, and others.  john wesley would call this 'going onto perfection'.  we're confess to strive for perfection in this lifetime.  i do believe there are 'perfect moments'.  we even had some when i was growing up.

when mom got to a point where speech did not make sense to my listening ear, i'd simply listen to her story, knowing it must make sense -- probably to her!  but, none-the-less, she was happy and well cared for, and those are two elements in this world that are not always the care.  and then i'd be heading out the door and she'd say, clear as a bell, 'good-bye; i love you'.  and that's what you hold onto.  love in its vast forms. . . .

so, here's to mom; euva jean pease pierce august 2nd to december 30th . . . . 88 years; what a life!