Most of you know that mom transitioned on Saturday, June 14. I guess that’s the nice way to put it though we don’t know where she transitioned to. It’s a mystery that the universe holds out on us, one of many. Her ashes reside with us for the time being. We’ll probably bury them on the farm. Here’s a poem I wrote about her.
who made gingerbread houses
and fluffy merengue cookies in December
who put up stuffed Christmas stockings
who hid our Easter basket treats
who loved sweets as much as we did
and hid hers in the sofa
who wrapped us in her full skirts
when we cried
who hated camping but loved cabins
who taught me how to make paper mâché
and tie-dyed paper
who was my biggest supporter
who meted out monthly clothing allowances
who brought her Scottish background
and depression-era childhood
to bear on all things financial.
Fair, kind, unselfish,
encouraging , loving, enduring.