Have A Seat.

This is the third of four pictures my sister and I shared at Mom's memorial lunch.  To read my blog you would think I am overtaken by this grief.  It's not like that.  I laugh.  I socialize.  I have fun.  I don't dwell on my loss.  But every day, multiple times during the day, I see or hear something that reminds me of my mother and I am deeply sad.  I miss her. 

This picture should be a familiar one to anybody who visited the Wade household.  It’s my parents in their kitchen, sitting across their kitchen table from each.  This picture seems ordinary enough at first glance but to me this picture represents the constancy of my family’s love and support.    As we went through pictures to share today we were struck at how many of them were taken in this room with one or both my parents at this table. How many times have I sat at the table with them?  Good times and bad.  Laughing, arguing and just living life. 

When Erica was a little baby I took her to visit my mother.  As I carried her in her cloth baby carrier from the car one of the handles slipped from my gloved hand and Erica tumbled to the ground.  I quickly picked her up.  She was screeching at me angrily and had some scratches on her face.  I panicked and did the only thing I could think to do.  I rushed her into the house, holding her in front of me with two outstretched arms, yelling for my mother to help.  There she was sitting at the table.  I held Erica out to her saying “Is she okay?” over and over again.  My mother calmly took her, checked her over and told me everything was fine.  Only then could I stop panicking.

Many stories have played out at this table.  For my mother the last was this past Monday when she  chose to leave the hospital and come home.  When she was carried into the house she demanded to be taken to her kitchen table.  She sat at her side of the table long into the night, surrounded by the love of her family.  Determined to do things on her terms.  Strong until the end.       

Hug Me

Below is the second picture from my Mom's memorial.  Chosen by my sister Sabrina and followed by what she said.  Sabrina and I did not share beforehand what we would say at Mom's memorial.  I think hearing my sister's love and grief for our mother was one of the hardest things I dealt with that day.  My sister lives across the street from my parents.  She was there for Mom day in and day out.  My sister is a wonderful person.

How does a child sum up the life of a mother? Sweet, cuddly, mushy, charming, cute, these are not words to describe my mother. My mother was stoic, sedulous, proud, classy, and intelligent.

We did not hug much in our family. This never bothered me, though my sister and I made a conscious decision to start hugging more when we got together.  I didn’t need a hug to know my mother loved me. 

My mother’s hugs were when my mom would sit with me after bathtime and work the tangles out of my fine hair, letting me stay up past my bedtime with the family watching tv together as I very slowly sipped the glass of water I needed as if I’d been on a desert island for weeks, wrapping my sister and I up in blankets and her fur coat one winter night because the furnace had gone out, watching her work so hard to get a college degree even though she had been told by her teachers in Germany that she was not smart, coming to my house to clean it when I was a new mother, making oxtail soup every Christmas Eve even though it took all day and it was not my fathers’ favorite, letting me see her cry when she lost her own mother, calling me in my young adulthood when life got too busy to tell me she forgot what I looked like so I would go visit her, sitting with her countless times at the kitchen table and just talking, about anything and everything, making sure I learned about God and how to live a spiritual life that is not defined by religion, getting together for family dinner night, walking together with her hand holding the crook of my arm, letting me care for her as she became ill. 

These are some of the hugs my mother gave me.  

Determination

At Mom's memorial lunch my sister and I each chose two pictures that were special to us.  This is the first picture I shared and what I said about it.

I chose this picture because it reminds me how my mother’s determination and resolve has been an inspiration to me throughout my life.  This picture was taken in 1970, right after my mother returned from a long visit to Germany.    Before that trip she had reached a crossroad in her life.  She was restless and unhappy.  She loved her family and regretted none of her choices but she wanted something more than she had.  She wanted to go to college.  She wanted to be out in the world.  She wanted to shape her own destiny instead of being led by the circumstances in her life.  But there were obstacles.  Her own fear and self doubt.  Society’s expectation that being a housewife and mother should be enough for her.     Where would they get the money?  And the seemingly impossible logistics of going to school when she had two young children and a husband who traveled for work.   

I believe her trip to Germany was to take stock of where she came from before she stepped forward to create a new life.  I remember the adults in my life giving me vague answers about why my mother went away.   I remember how excited I was when I found out she was coming home.   This picture is the day she returned.  Even at my young age I realized when I saw her that there was something very different about her.  It wasn’t just her stylish new wardrobe and hairdo.  It was her resolve.  Here was a woman who had had taken charge and was going to get the things out of life that she wanted.  And she did.  She went to school, got a degree and then got a job.  She was outspoken and independent and she experienced life on her terms.  It was such an example to me throughout my life.  This was the moment my mother taught me the only thing that could stop me in life was myself.

Unmoored

My mother passed away on January 27th.  It was not unexpected but it was nevertheless a shock to lose someone so important in my life.  I feel like some of the glue in my life is gone and I need to work hard to keep all the pieces from floating away.

Every day I wake up and at some point within the first 5 minutes it hits me that my mother is dead.  And I think "Oh mother."   Because I miss her so.  I want her back.  I'll never have her back.

Over the next few posts I'll share the memories my sister and I shared at her memorial luncheon.

Opening

My father, sister and I thank you for joining us today to share memories of my mother Gisela.  Please bear with my sister and me if we cry a little bit while we’re up here speaking to you.  We’ll simply take a moment to collect ourselves and then carry on - like our mother taught us to do.

Many people use the word strong when they describe my mother.  She fought a hard battle against her body for most of her life. She faced those battles with a seemingly endless supply of courage and a desire to live the life she wanted in spite of her health.  It would appear to most people that her body won this battle in the end.  I tell you that it didn’t.  Her spirit was strong and noble and good and in the end it triumphed over her body as she controlled her own destiny until the very end, coming home to spend her last days surrounded by the love of her family.

My mother was more than strong.  She was curious and intelligent, always reading and learning.  A deep thinker, she loved carrying on long conversations and debates about a wide variety of topics.   If you wanted to debate her though,you had better be well prepared,.  If you weren't she'd eat you alive. 

Those closest to her know she also had a love of laughter and fun.  In so many of the pictures around this room she is laughing.  The best payoff for me when I told a funny story was her laughter.  When I could get her to laugh uncontrollably it was the best feeling in the world.   

My mother will always be a part of me.   I am comforted by the fact that so much of who she was carries on through her grandchildren.  She was so proud of them and I see so much of her in them.  A smart, funny and strong group of people.

Please know that she cared deeply about so many of you here.  In the last few months, as she talked about memories, so many of you came up.   You were an important part of her life and I know she’d be happy that you were here to honor those memories.  

I’d like to share a poem.  My mother had a special relationship with her father-in-law Marty.  They loved many of the same things.  This poem was one of them. 

Invictus

by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

      Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

      For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

      I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

      My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

      Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

      Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

      How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

      I am the captain of my soul.

That was my mother.

Shut My Mouth

I don't feel qualified to speak about what is going on in Ferguson.  I don't know what it's like to be targeted as suspicious simply because of the color of my skin.  I don't know what it's like to be pulled over by a police officer for no other reason than being who I am.

I don't like the police.  I don't know why.  I just know that they raise in me an instinctual distrust, a drawing in and at the same time a whole lot of defiance.  A luxury I'm afforded as a white female.  Wonder how brave I'd be if they pulled out their guns on me as I gave them my stoic, evil eyed stare and my smartass mouthiness.  Probably not very.

Saw a post of a friend of a facebook friend about Ferguson that made me just shake my head.  "Unlike them, we're civilized.  Get your gun and be prepared to shoot to kill those who would harm your life, family and property."  Oh the irony.

Couldn't Do It

Deleted my last post.  I'm actually ashamed of how sappy it was.  I can't explain why I lost the desire to blog.  At some point the ideas seemed forced and the entries dwindled.  Has my life become boring, over-examined, have I said all I have to say?  Maybe.

I know that part of it is I lost interest in posting anything related to my political viewpoint.  The more deep the divide between left and right has become the less sway I feel anything I have to say will hold.  The political discourse these days is brutal.  I read the comments of any story posted to any internet news source and it doesn't take long for me to be both sad and scared.  Sad that it to deteriorates into name calling almost immediately.  Scared of the extreme opinions of the right who seem to truly believe that our world is about to collapse because of our President's actions.  And there's no reasoning with them.  Facts are immaterial.  So in the face of that I guess I ended up at "Why bother?"

Well, I know why.  Because every single voice that stands in opposition of the madness will eventually drown them out, I hope.  So, you know what.  Don't send me your campaign literature where you call yourself a "Job creator."  To me that means you oppose raising the minimum wage, something that is long overdue.  Don't proudly proclaim that you support "Protecting Life."  That means you want to control what women do with their bodies.  And your 2nd amendment mantra about the right to protect yourself must surely have some boundaries.  Why not just let everybody have tanks, and missiles and grenades.   Hell, let's arm everyone to the teeth and let it all play out however it goes.  The innocents killed along the way are just the necessary collateral damage offered at the altar of "freedom".  Do you people hear yourselves?

Today I voted in the primary election.  Every Democrat ran uncontested because they have slim chance of being elected in this gerrymandered district.  They'll all be on the ballot in November, I'll vote for them then.  Today I hoped to vote for two Republicans to get them on the ballot.  The Republicans spots all had at least two candidates for each spot (except Governor and Senator).  Some of them are real crackpots.   My plan was to vote for two Republicans today.  Normally this is done to bring the nut job to the ballot in November and increase the Democrats' chances.  No, I wanted to keep the far right fringe as far away from the real ballot as I can.  A "normal" Republican would be refreshing for a change.  Sadly, in Michigan you can only vote all Republican or all Democrat and I couldn't bring myself to vote for Rick Snyder and Terry Lynn Land.  I'm keeping the faith that the Republicans in this district have some sense and don't vote for Kerry Bentovolio or Matthew Edwards.

Meddling Mother

My lovely Miss Erica, eldest child, only daughter and one of the absolute joys of my life is single again after only two years of marriage.  How that happened is not my tale to tell other than to say that this change was gut wrenching for all concerned, each in their own way.   My advice from the start has been to dust yourself off, learn the lessons you need to learn and move on.  Nothing else to do.  You can't change the past so it's wasted time to wish you could.

Now, about Mike Schramm.  I first heard him years ago on a podcast called Wow Insider.   It's about the World of Warcraft, a game which I love and play to this day.  At that time I was part of a raiding guild that spent a good deal of time trying to defeat digital "bosses".  It took coordinated effort and a dedication to achieving the goal.  I was mediocre at best but they needed me because I was a healer and not many people are willing to do such a thankless job.  I tried to improve by learning as much as I could about the game.  That's why I started listening to this podcast.

I liked Mike Schramm's style.  He is easygoing, smart, funny, eager to learn, open minded and not afraid to laugh at himself.  All good qualities in a person.  When he left that podcast and moved on to another I followed.  It was a different format, less formal but a lot of fun to listen to.

Then Mike took a trip to Europe and that's how I discovered his blog.  He's a really good writer, not surprising given the easy way he talks to his podcast audience.  His writing is the same.  At some point I facebook friended him.  His posts make me smile.  When I read and heard he was going to Berlin I messaged him some recommendations for his visit to one of my favorite cities.  He took my advice about a restaurant and I was thrilled to hear him actually mention it on his podcast.  Silly I know, but it was nice to have a semi-personal connection with someone whose work I admired.

Back to my daughter, at some point, during a discussion with her about plenty of fish in the sea I think I said something like "There are plenty of Mike Schramm's out there." She responded with a sigh and asked who Mike Schramm was.  I told her the tale I just told you and then suggested she FB friend him.  She did and she's noticed the same qualities I have, especially his great sense of humor.   I kept telling her I'd be happy to message him that if he liked my restaurant tip he would love the one about meeting my daughter. She absolutely forbade me from doing it.   Fine.

Then Mike started planning a driving trip out west.  He crowd funded his trip as a travel blog and I backed him.  My motive was to support and encourage a great writer.  I really enjoyed reading the blog posts from his European vacation.  I chose the level where I would receive a souvenir from his travels.  Then I received an email from Mike asking me to forward my request for a personal picture since I had qualified for that on top of my souvenir.  That's when the wheels started turning.

I requested the picture above and the affable Mike Schramm happily complied.  My daughter was mortified, well a little embarrassed at least. Maybe they won't ever have dinner but my message remains the same.... there are plenty of Mike Schramm's out there - fours on the four point scale..... smart, funny, handsome and tall..... .sorry, we're a tall family so it merits a point.