And Now They Too Are
Gone
On May 2, 2018 I lost my mother ‘Nena.’ I had actually lost her memory a few years
before her body actually quit. She like
many others was a victim of Alzheimer.
What a horrible disease. It robs
you of your dignity, it robs you of your memories, and it robs you of your vey
being. Funny thing here is I did not mourn my mother…not
like I knew I should have. Perhaps it
was because as soon as I realized she no longer knew me I was devastated. For months I mourned the mother who once knew
me…who I talked to on a regular basis…over the phone due to the distance
between States.
Nena was force to raise all nine of her children on her own, working numerous jobs to make ends meet. She did whatever was needed to ensure her children had a roof over their heads, and food on the table. She was a fabulous cook, and although she did not have much to offer, whatever she had, was shared with everyone who came through her door. Not one person left her house without a full belly. She was very creative, loved Mexican music and loved to dance. Into her eighties she was still dancing at family events and at various parties. Nena had the best sense of humor, and most of all she loved to garden. She had the greenest thumb of the whole valley! She could make anything grow. She was a very giving person and often gave her last nickel, or food from her cupboards, when needed by others. She stood a whopping 4’10” in her youth and was tough as nails; no one dared make her angry! She lived her life as she saw fit…and answered to no one.
In the last couple months, every time I turned around I was grieving my mother. Isn’t that funny. My mother who died six months prior was finally on my mind day in and day out. Grief does not go away. It sometimes hides within you, and then exposes itself like a monster in the dark. I spent the holidays grieving my mother…remembering all the visits…remembering all the early years in the kitchen. We were poor growing up, but no matter, my mother could whip up the best meals out of empty cupboards for her children. I learned to cook ‘her style’ at an early age…and still make some of the simplest, best tasting meals ever.
About a month ago I received a call from my friend Peggy. She was dying. Peggy was my mentor, my surrogate mother. You see, my husband and I moved to Idaho when I was 22 years old. I had no family there. Shortly thereafter I met Peggy…who over time became my mother. This very week I lost Peggy.
I lost Peggy on Jan 20, 2019. Peggy’s final days were spent the same way she lived her life…with Peggy giving the directions, firing people she didn’t want by her side, and dying with all the dignity she could muster. In her younger years Peggy loved to cook, she loved to dance, she loved music…and she loved Frank Sinatra. When Peggy told me of her imminent death I was distraught. She assured me she was happy and ready to die…she was looking forward to once again reuniting with Candy, a daughter whom she lost a couple years before. “Olgie you are taking this harder than I am. Don’t be upset, I will be with Candy. Be happy for me, I am ready to die, to be with Candy.” Unlike my mother’s death, prior to Peggy’s death we had many conversations. We talked about her life…her one regret was not forgiving. She lost precious time with those she loved, and was too proud to forgive, was too proud to say “I’m sorry.” She eventually came around…and once they were back in her life she never let them go again.
Peggy loved to travel… as soon as she retired she pulled up stakes, bought a motor home and travelled from one end of the country to the next. She loved to camp, she loved to fish, she wasn’t afraid to go out and explore the world. It was not unusual to find her traveling …with a companion, or often alone. No one could stop her, not even in her 80’s. There came a time when she realized she was too old to travel, so she got rid of her motorhome…then a year later she bought another one, and traveled some more.
It was as if Peggy’s entire life was planned in advance. She planned her retirement long before women even thought about these things. She knew she would live a long life and did not want to depend on others to support her. She always wanted to be in charge of her destiny, and dared anyone try to stop her. She was a modern woman of today’s world, long before today was here. She was a strong woman, she was a brave woman…she was loved.
She had a love for having fun. Whether it was a barbecue, birthdays, holidays…having fun on the lake, or just enjoying being with friends. My children loved going to her house, with or without me…could it be because she enjoyed letting my kids get away with things they could not do in their own house. For instance, she let them slide down the three story laundry chute…without asking my permission. Oh yes, she found it amusing. The same was true when I visited my own mother…perhaps it was her sense of humor the kids enjoyed. Or perhaps it was the way she would bring out their laughter…either way my children love both of these women…both of my mothers.
The one thing I remember most about Peggy…is how she enjoyed going out with friends, we all went drinking and dancing, and then after all that a midnight breakfast at my house. Oh how she loved to dance…and how many times did we all end up at the natural hot springs…wearing nothing more than the reflection of moonlight on our bodies. Had my mother been there I know she too would have joined us. She too would have taken off her clothes without worry to enjoy the hot waters of the Idaho Mountains.
The last years of Peggy’s life, of Nena’s life were not easy. Their health failed them both over the last few years, but before all that they each loved their children, and their grandchildren, they were fabulous cooks, they were both tough cookies, and they were both great friends, and they were both my mothers. Both of these women were abuse by their spouses. My mother was physically abused, and Peggy was mentally abused. I think this was why they did not allow another to direct their lives. I believe this made them the women they were. I see myself, and I see both. I am proud to finally say, I am both my mothers’ daughter.
Nena was force to raise all nine of her children on her own, working numerous jobs to make ends meet. She did whatever was needed to ensure her children had a roof over their heads, and food on the table. She was a fabulous cook, and although she did not have much to offer, whatever she had, was shared with everyone who came through her door. Not one person left her house without a full belly. She was very creative, loved Mexican music and loved to dance. Into her eighties she was still dancing at family events and at various parties. Nena had the best sense of humor, and most of all she loved to garden. She had the greenest thumb of the whole valley! She could make anything grow. She was a very giving person and often gave her last nickel, or food from her cupboards, when needed by others. She stood a whopping 4’10” in her youth and was tough as nails; no one dared make her angry! She lived her life as she saw fit…and answered to no one.
In the last couple months, every time I turned around I was grieving my mother. Isn’t that funny. My mother who died six months prior was finally on my mind day in and day out. Grief does not go away. It sometimes hides within you, and then exposes itself like a monster in the dark. I spent the holidays grieving my mother…remembering all the visits…remembering all the early years in the kitchen. We were poor growing up, but no matter, my mother could whip up the best meals out of empty cupboards for her children. I learned to cook ‘her style’ at an early age…and still make some of the simplest, best tasting meals ever.
About a month ago I received a call from my friend Peggy. She was dying. Peggy was my mentor, my surrogate mother. You see, my husband and I moved to Idaho when I was 22 years old. I had no family there. Shortly thereafter I met Peggy…who over time became my mother. This very week I lost Peggy.
I lost Peggy on Jan 20, 2019. Peggy’s final days were spent the same way she lived her life…with Peggy giving the directions, firing people she didn’t want by her side, and dying with all the dignity she could muster. In her younger years Peggy loved to cook, she loved to dance, she loved music…and she loved Frank Sinatra. When Peggy told me of her imminent death I was distraught. She assured me she was happy and ready to die…she was looking forward to once again reuniting with Candy, a daughter whom she lost a couple years before. “Olgie you are taking this harder than I am. Don’t be upset, I will be with Candy. Be happy for me, I am ready to die, to be with Candy.” Unlike my mother’s death, prior to Peggy’s death we had many conversations. We talked about her life…her one regret was not forgiving. She lost precious time with those she loved, and was too proud to forgive, was too proud to say “I’m sorry.” She eventually came around…and once they were back in her life she never let them go again.
Peggy loved to travel… as soon as she retired she pulled up stakes, bought a motor home and travelled from one end of the country to the next. She loved to camp, she loved to fish, she wasn’t afraid to go out and explore the world. It was not unusual to find her traveling …with a companion, or often alone. No one could stop her, not even in her 80’s. There came a time when she realized she was too old to travel, so she got rid of her motorhome…then a year later she bought another one, and traveled some more.
It was as if Peggy’s entire life was planned in advance. She planned her retirement long before women even thought about these things. She knew she would live a long life and did not want to depend on others to support her. She always wanted to be in charge of her destiny, and dared anyone try to stop her. She was a modern woman of today’s world, long before today was here. She was a strong woman, she was a brave woman…she was loved.
She had a love for having fun. Whether it was a barbecue, birthdays, holidays…having fun on the lake, or just enjoying being with friends. My children loved going to her house, with or without me…could it be because she enjoyed letting my kids get away with things they could not do in their own house. For instance, she let them slide down the three story laundry chute…without asking my permission. Oh yes, she found it amusing. The same was true when I visited my own mother…perhaps it was her sense of humor the kids enjoyed. Or perhaps it was the way she would bring out their laughter…either way my children love both of these women…both of my mothers.
The one thing I remember most about Peggy…is how she enjoyed going out with friends, we all went drinking and dancing, and then after all that a midnight breakfast at my house. Oh how she loved to dance…and how many times did we all end up at the natural hot springs…wearing nothing more than the reflection of moonlight on our bodies. Had my mother been there I know she too would have joined us. She too would have taken off her clothes without worry to enjoy the hot waters of the Idaho Mountains.
The last years of Peggy’s life, of Nena’s life were not easy. Their health failed them both over the last few years, but before all that they each loved their children, and their grandchildren, they were fabulous cooks, they were both tough cookies, and they were both great friends, and they were both my mothers. Both of these women were abuse by their spouses. My mother was physically abused, and Peggy was mentally abused. I think this was why they did not allow another to direct their lives. I believe this made them the women they were. I see myself, and I see both. I am proud to finally say, I am both my mothers’ daughter.
 |
| Nena |
 | |||
| Peggy |
The song, ‘My Way,’ by Frank Sinatra could have been written about both my mothers.
‘And now, the end is near…
And so she faced the final curtain
My friend, she said it clear,
She stated her case, of which she was certain’…
And so she faced the final curtain
My friend, she said it clear,
She stated her case, of which she was certain’…
‘She lived
a life that was full…
She travelled each and every highway
And more, much more than this
She did it her way’…
She travelled each and every highway
And more, much more than this
She did it her way’…
‘Regrets,
she had a few…
But then again too few to mention
She did what she had to do
And saw it through without exemption’…
But then again too few to mention
She did what she had to do
And saw it through without exemption’…
‘She
planned each charted course…
Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this
She did it her way’…
Each careful step along the byway
And more, much more than this
She did it her way’…
‘Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew…
When she bit off more than she could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
She ate it up and spit it out
She faced it all and she stood tall
And did it her way’…
When she bit off more than she could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
She ate it up and spit it out
She faced it all and she stood tall
And did it her way’…
‘She loved, she laughed, and
cried…
She had her fill, her share of losing
And now, as tears subside
She found it all, all so amusing’…
She had her fill, her share of losing
And now, as tears subside
She found it all, all so amusing’…
‘To think she did all that…
And may I say, not in a shy way
Oh no, no, not her
She did it her way’…
And may I say, not in a shy way
Oh no, no, not her
She did it her way’…
‘For what is man, what has he
got…
If not herself, then she has naught
To say the things she truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows she took the blows’…
If not herself, then she has naught
To say the things she truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows she took the blows’…
‘And did it her way…
And did it her way’…
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