When someday becomes the day…we talked about this day all of the time and nothing really prepares you for this moment. We talked about what she wanted, how things were to be done, and that in the end if we screwed it up that she’d haunt Dad for the rest of his days.
Mom never liked the spotlight. It simply wasn’t her deal but she did love the lights. The colors and the shimmer and her unbelievable ability to make something out of nothing at all. Everything she read or saw on television was a project in the making.
Some of Mom’s favorite memories were when she was little she loved sitting on the porch over on Arbor in Omaha watching it rain with Grandma. She said she loved it when it poured. She would also talk about how Grandma would make popcorn balls and they would sit on the porch and watch cars go by. During summer they’d switch to popsicles.
Mom loved to read and write. She would tell you that her love of that came from Grandma. She wanted to be the next Erma Bombeck and even sent something in to be published. She also learned that there is no crime in failing, but there is if you never try.
She wasn’t sure what it was but she felt she was never enough. She was never pretty enough, smart enough, skinny enough. She said that all changed when she met Dad. He made her feel enough and taught her that she was enough for him and the love of her life would be enough until the day she died. We often laughed and joked about prince charming with a beer and a cigarette and that would be Dad.
Her favorite vacation was Paris. Oh she loved Alcatraz, fishing, camping, and Tennessee and some others but Paris above all else was her dream come true. She sent me a postcard that simply said “you should see it from my eyes”.
Did you know she really loved to dance? With Dad though it was more the thought of dancing. We watched Dancing with the Stars and lived vicariously through the show. It was the freedom of the beat that carried her away. Amazingly, she loved all types of music. We’d laugh and talk about how the music played the echoes of her heartbeat and matched the rhythm of her dreams. We would spend hours at Barnes and Noble reading and listening to all sorts of music. She wanted to live amid the music, the footsteps, and words. She swore that the place called to her.
The other places that called to her were thrift stores she never met a thrift store that didn’t like. She was always on a mission to find the next greatest treasure or project. Most of us saw it as junk but when she was done with it, it was absolutely transformed. As she got sicker she said that she regretted that she couldn’t do projects anymore. She could still see them in her mind but didn’t have the strength or energy to do them.
Painting was a passion, beyond a love. We laughed thinking about what color she’d paint heaven. So was card playing. She loved to play pinochle and we’d play girls against the boys most of the time. She loved playing with family and the Grandkids.
She was a sappy, mushy heart that would cry at the drop of a hat. It was always the silly things that too her breath away. She had a sense of humor that made you laugh from the bottom of your toes. She could make fun of herself so easily. She admittedly couldn’t save money and never once held back. If you walked into her house and commented about liking something she’d give it to you. It made her feel good that you liked something she’d made. To her, it was just a chance to redecorate.
April 6th was the someday that became the day. Before she left we called the angels to say: come take her away. To heaven she’s to go, of this we know. She’s a child of the Lord and in Jesus’ care. I know I’ll see her when Jesus takes me there. Until the day we meet again, may the memories of her laughter, tenderness, endless humor, and creativity help all of us breathe when we most need to take a deeper breath. She loved, lived, laughed, and she’s smiling in heaven until the someday when we meet again becomes the day.
Tari Lynn
4/6/09
twaldner 