A Tribute to my Mother

Two weeks ago my mom fell. A few days later she passed away, reuniting with my wonderful father on the other side. Mom suffered with Parkinson’s Disease for many years, so though there is much sadness, I’m also hopeful she is now free of the pain and suffering she enduring during her last years of mortality. 

My four siblings and I each had the opportunity to speak at her funeral. 

I thought I would record my thoughts here. 

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How do you capture the essence of the woman who bore, nurtured and carried you throughout your life? As a child, it’s hard to fully know and understand the story that shaped your mother. And, my mom was a master at keeping her scars hidden — teaching us to look at the bright side of any situation. I’ll admit, my more sensitive soul did not always appreciate her sense of humor, especially when in teenage crisis mode. However, as time passes I so appreciate the ability she had to lighten a bad day. 

Though I may not see her whole story, through my mother I witnessed great sacrifice. More often than not, Mom sacrificed her own comfort for that of another. Throughout my life, I watched her “suffer long and be kind in her suffering, seek not her own, bear all things, hope for things  and endure many things.” 

Of mothers, President Jeffrey R. Holland has said, “Not only do they bear us, but they continue bearing with us. It is not only the prenatal carrying but the lifelong carrying that makes mothering a staggering feat.” 

So, allow me to share a few stories of how my mom carried me. 

Years ago, when I was in college, I came home for the holiday break. I was really struggling with the transition and shed many tears. One night as I cried, she was sitting in the rocking chair listening to me. Finally, she said, “Come here.” And she sat and rocked me as I cried. Imagine, me, 19-years old, being rocked by my mother. 

I remember in third grade there was a boy who wasn’t particularly nice to me. One time, my mom substituted my class.  As always, she brought along her guitar and led us in some songs. Later that day, this boy came up to me and said, “Your mom is so cool!” And from then on I was cool, because my mom was cool! 

Awhile back I came to visit my parents in Grantsville. I remember sitting down in the second row of Relief Society. My mom immediately started to say hi to all those sitting in front and to the side of her. I will never forget when she then turned around and said, “Now, who’s sitting behind me.” She never wanted anyone to feel left out. When people ask me about my mom, this is the story I tell them! 

I have this vivid memory of being home for the holidays (again). I’m standing by the wood stove. There is a show on the TV or Christmas music playing. My mom is standing in the kitchen cooking something on the stove. And in that moment I felt safe, warm, happy — Because Mom was there. 

My mom was not overly present, giving her children plenty of space to learn and to grow; but she was always there in a critical moment.  While driving around the week after Mom passed, I heard this song that capsulated exactly how I was feeling:

        As the music at the banquet 

        As the wine before the feast. 

        As the firelight in the night. 

        So are you to me. 

        As the ruby in the setting

        As the fruit upon the tree

        As the wind blows over the plaines

        So are you to me. 

Again, Mom was just always there. And maybe it’s selfish or just a child demanding more from her mother, but I can’t stop wishing she could hold me one last time.