Farewell Mom

By Lynn Ludwick

It’s as if I had been born with a party hat in one hand and a noisemaker in the other, while my mother greeted me holding a schedule with both hands. Mom was a stay-at-home wife and mother of the ‘Fifties, dedicated to running our home as a business and to making responsible citizens of her children. “Babies are little barbarians who need to be civilized,” she believed, and set herself to the task. I seemed to need a bit more civilizing than my brother or sister. Thankfully, Mom persisted—though I still sport a gleam in my eye on many occasions.

Now I face life without her. She died in June. I frequently make a mental note to tell her this or that, knowing she’d chuckle. Then I remember she’s gone. The full force of that reality has yet to hit, though the sorrow certainly has.

A couple of months before Mom died, the Lord granted us an incredible evening, a time to express our love for each other, a time for healing differences. She worried about me due to the tumultuous season I’d recently navigated, but I reassured her that her little girl was truly okay now.

How does one person, even a daughter, summarize 95 years of another person’s life, even her mother? Like the question posed in The Sound of Music of how to solve a problem like Maria, many people posed a similar question about Mom. All who knew her would describe her as an enigma. Her views were all over the map, though she didn’t lack conviction for her any of them. Even at her surprise birthday party in June, though her health was failing rapidly, she reigned like the Queen Mother in Residence, dispensing wisdom and opinions.

Not a day goes by that I don’t think about Mom, that she isn’t sitting on my shoulder. She was and still is the most influential person in my life. (“…As is the mother, so is her daughter.” Ezekiel 16:44) I quote her often. My love of homemaking, sewing, decorating, cooking, reading, learning, organization, hard work—all come from her influence and training. (My father shares credit for the reading, learning and hard-work aspects.) Thrift remained one of Mom’s benchmark virtues until the end. My brother quipped that she could squeeze a nickel until the Indian came out riding the buffalo. Many of my habits are either those she taught or those I caught by association.

At her memorial service many came forward and spoke of her love of learning, of her strength, of her zeal for life. One man said, “There are people who live lives of quiet desperation. But your parents lived lives of quiet inspiration.” Though she’s journeyed heavenward, she’ll remain loved and remembered.

Thanks for everything, Mom. I miss you terribly.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.” Psalm 23:1

Lynn Ludwick writes from Eagle Point, Oregon. lynniegirl45@hotmail.com