My Mom passed away this morning. She was a few months shy of 90 years old. The poor thing caught that crappy chest cold that everyone in So Cal has had since Christmas, and she just couldn’t shake it.
My brother and sisters and I were with her yesterday at her board and care facility in Murrieta, watching her fight it and letting her know that she was loved. She never was conscious, but I think she could hear us and feel our kisses. She was brave ’til the end.
Mom now joins our Dad, who died almost twenty years ago. If there is a place “up there”, then they’ll both be happier today.
My Mom lived a big life for a young lady born to a couple of flaming alcoholics in Los Angeles back in 1928. She got very little love from her father, and spent a lot of her youth taking care of her mother, who was a barfly and floozy, and would bring drunk “boyfriends” home from the local bars. It is amazing that she found her way out of the mess, but she did, when she was lucky to get a job at a paper box factory during WWII…and met the mother of her husband-to-be, Richard Manning.
The two of them set about securing their portion of the American Dream. My Dad was a mechanic and my Mom, in the Fifties, was a stay-at-home housewife, doing the hard work of raising four young children. I don’t know if I told you this, but my Mom was a very striking woman. She was a natural brunette, but she always colored her hair strawberry blonde. She and my Dad were early waterskiiers, and she always looked so beautiful back there behind the boat jumping the wake in her single ski. Our family had such great times in our two ski boats, first “Skisix” and, then, “Big Daddy”.
My Dad’s business venture in Santa Cruz failed in the early Sixties, so the family retreated to So Cal, Dad went back to work at a Ford dealership, and my Mom got a job with Zellerbach Paper Company. She had to lie to get the job; she said she had two kids, when she was actually raising four. Mom started out at Zellerback as a basic office flunky, but did so well there that she kept getting more responsible tasks assigned to her until she was a major buyer for the company. Management really loved her there, and she loved being appreciated by the bosses and Zellerbach’s clients all over the country. That job really gave her the confidence to believe that she could do anything.
Charlie and I introduced Mom and Dad to travel back in the early 80’s. We went on a few cruises with them, and then they took off on their own and traveled all over the world in the next two decades. They went to Russia, China, Europe, Canada, Alaska, and, of course, all over Mexico and the Caribbean. Charlie and I probably did a half-dozen cruises with them, the last one being a lengthy Mediterranean cruise. Mom broke a tooth on the first day, but soldiered through the trip with a goofy smile.
It wasn’t long after that cruise that my Dad passed; he just didn’t wake up one morning, dying of an apparent heart attack. It devastated my Mom; they had just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary. They were having so much fun, traveling, dancing, and enjoying their retirement years in Vista. I really wish they could have had more time together in the “golden years”, because they deserved it.
My Mom always loved me special, maybe because I reminded her of my Dad. I can’t remember her being anything but a loving mother over all the years, and a source of comfort and advise when times were tough.
I surprised Mom and Dad when I was 25 years old by revealing to them that I had fallen in love with a divorcee who just happened to have four young children. Both of my parents gave their complete thumbs up to the romance and marriage, and always treated my step-children like any of the other grandchildren in the family. My Mom had a tremendous heart to do that, particularly since I was her prize specimen.
Mom and Dad were thrifty and they saved and invested well. She was the manager of the finances, and was quite proud of the way she kept the bills paid, arranged for the lay-away gifts at Christmas, squirrelled away money for vacations, and talked my Dad into their home purchases. They were all good ones, and my Mom was a very fine home decorator, so her homes always looked great and inviting to guests. I was always proud to bring my friends over to my house.
I will miss my Mom. We shared many experiences over the 70 years, laughed and cried together, and she was always there for me when I needed a comforting embrace. I was always proud to say, “That’s my Mom!”
I know that everyone thinks that their Mom is the greatest, and who am I to argue with them? But, as far as setting an example of how to love and care for someone, being fun to be with, and treating other human beings with respect and thoughtfulness, I think that my Mom was “as good as it gets”.
