Two things defined my mom's life in my opinion: laughter, and love. I've often wondered if her laughter was what attracted my dad to her, since he was the ultimate jokester. They were a perfect pair - the story teller with his funny accents and quick wit, and the woman with the infectious laugh. Sometimes it was a day late, but it was never a dollar short. I couldn't begin to count the number of times I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard her laughing. It could have been because she finally got a joke she heard earlier in the day, or maybe she remembered something funny that happened last week. Sometimes I never knew why she was laughing, but just hearing the sound made me laugh right along.
I was in 5th grade and our school was having Parent's Day. Parents could come in the classrooms and observe, and slip out quietly whenever they wanted. My mom and dad observed for a while, and then stood up to leave. Dad, ever the gentleman, had mom go ahead of him. She made it to the front of the room, walked right by the door, opened the closet door and walked in! She quickly turned around and said, "Lovely closet!" and then walked out the door. My 5th grade self slid as far down in my seat as I could, but I'm sure everyone could still see my glowing red face. Twelve hours later - she woke me up...laughing. She laughed loud and often. She laughed at jokes, situations, and most of all herself.
Communication was always a big source of amusement with mom. She was amazing in how well she could speak and follow along with whatever was going on. My friends all thought I was lucky to have a deaf mom, because they assumed I could get away with stuff, but she never missed a thing! Daddy always said she had a 6th sense about things. When I was a baby, I'd be in my crib, and they'd be watching TV and she'd be knitting. She'd look at my dad and say, "Is the baby crying?" just as I started to cry. It always sounded like a coincidence to me, until when I was older I experienced it firsthand. She'd do the same thing with the phone and the doorbell. If only that 6th sense worked with the Lottery!
The other thing that defined my mom was love. She loved her family. She loved her friends. She loved her husband more than any woman I've ever known. She missed him as much the last day of her life as she did on June 10, 2000. And if she'd lived another 20 years, she would still be wearing her wedding ring, waiting for the day she'd see him again.
She loved me and my sister sacrificially and completely. One of my earliest memories is when my parents were expecting my sister. Dad had explained where babies come from, telling me that in a while he and mom would go to the hospital and they'd pick out a baby. We'd talk about what I'd like, kind of like ordering a Happy Meal. That seemed to satisfy my 6 yr old curiosity just fine. They brought Terri home, and I liked her. For a while. She was a really colicky baby, and her crib was in my room! One night I just couldn't stand the noise anymore. When mom and dad came in to get her, I asked them why we couldn't just take her back to the hospital and trade her in for a different one. Historically Dad was the "Big Question" answerer, but this time, as mom sat on my bed holding my baby sister, she said no, we wouldn't trade her in. When I asked why not, she answered, "Because I like this one."
As great as she was at being a mom, being a grandmother was her real calling. She waited almost 13 years after getting a son-in-law to finally be a grandma. When we were in the adoption process, we explained to all the soon to be grandparents that it was probable that we'd adopt an African American, Chinese or Mexican baby. Everyone was fine with that, since they all knew how much we wanted a baby. On Sept 22, 1998 we got the call that a birthmom had chosen us. I called Dad, and could almost feel mom jiggling with excitement. When I mentioned that the birthmom was Mexican though, she got really quiet. Of course my hackles got up a bit. But I listened as my dad patiently explained that just because the birthmom was Mexican, that didn't mean the baby would only speak Spanish. She had been afraid she wouldn't be able to understand the baby. I'm sure later that night she woke Daddy up...laughing. THe joy on her face when she saw Lizzie for the first time at the airport is something I'll never forget. It's the same joy she had when she saw Matthew, Lauren and Aidan for the first time.
She loved her friends. She loved her family - kids, grandkids, nieces, nephews, sisters, brothers. And she loved to laugh. I will miss her forever.
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