A Tribute and a Huge Change in our Lives

Mother of the Artist did not make it. She passed away Thursday evening, September 4 in the Emergency Department of the hospital where I work.

She was such a neat lady. 91 years old. Raised two fine artist sons. Brought up by her grandparents in lumber camps in Eastern Oregon, she spent one winter living in a converted boxcar. I always thought that was so cool, and even did a painting of what was left of the sawmill when we visited what was left of the town several years ago. (No boxcars then and very little track.) I think she was rather embarrased about it. She once described to me how there was a living room and a bedroom and a kitchen with a bathtub all laid out in the boxcar.

The Artist will no longer begin his week with the "Mom runs" to get her groceries on Mondays.

The Artist and I had her record into the computer some answers to questions last Christmas. That just amazed her. ("How does that work?" "It's magic, mom.") We would sit her down with one of us and get her to tell us what message she wanted to send someone. Then we'd email it. It's hard to imagine that someone could not really fathom how computers work in the least nor even give a whit, but she didn't. Even solitaire with a mouse was a little too much to handle. Give her playing cards and a bridge hand any day.

So here's to Mom. Chocolate-lover, Price is Right fan, San Francisco Giants devotee, insatiable romance novel reader ("but not those historicals"), indefatiguable bridge player and independent woman, mother and homemaker. Always a big smile and never a bad word about anyone. Proud that she never used a walker!

We will miss you so much and will love you forever.