They told us month’s, then it was hour’s, maybe a day and that became minutes.
I walked into her room, I held her hand, I kissed her forehead, I told her that I loved her, and thanked her for being my mom.
There were so many other things that I wanted to talk about with her, I hadn’t showed her this weeks picture of Lily or Tuna. We had a routine, I would say hi Sunshine, and she might answer me depending on the day. But she would wave, always a wave.
No more teasing her about watching the Vikings with me or NASCAR or the Twins. No more asking me if I planned on cutting my hair; no more asking the original foodie if she was going to make the recipe that she was looking at.
Now the memories start, trips to Boston, “Mom, will we be able to go to the House of the Seven Gables again, and the Ocean?” I’m pretty sure that those trips to Boston in the mid 70’s and early 80’s created my love of history, seafood and the ocean. Trips to Florida and her being willing to go to Disney World and ride the rides with her daughter. She even made sure that I got to an Alligator farm on one trip to Florida, because she knew my love for the magnificent creatures.
A road trip to Missouri, and the start of sharing with her what soon would become one of my favorite authors. She never tried of hearing about the book I was reading or the authors I discovered.
My mom took us to Valleyfair and rode the rides when she had to. I think she was probably secretly happy when I was finally tall enough to ride by myself. We made a tradition of going to the Hopkins Raspberry parade every year. She drove us to dance rehearsals, sports practices music lessons and my list could go on.
My mom was the ultimate band mom. She never missed a concert.She even made the last concert via you tube.
I got my love of crafting from her, she was artist when it came to her crafts. There was not a Leggs egg in the 70’s that was safe from creative transformation.
She passed on her faith to me, and taught me that faith isn’t about Sunday morning’s but how you live every day. She also taught me that you don’t have to be perfect but you really do have to try your hardest at everything that you do.
When my mom made a friend, you were her friend for life. Whether she met you in the fourth grade or in 1985. She made sure that there was a yearly Christmas card and letter at the very least to remind you that she was thinking about you. She would send birthday cards, and gifts long before Amazon was ever even a thought.
My mom put her family first. She might not have said I love you, gave out hugs or said 100 other things that come easily to others but she loved deeply.
So in those last moments of her life, I held her hand. I told her that I loved her and thanked her for being my mom.
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