It has been nine years since I sat at my mother’s bedside,
said goodbye, and gave her permission
to go to her heavenly home.
Her faith was strong.
The nurse that was with her told me that she swiftly flew
with the angels right into the arms of her Savior.
I grew up in a family of three.
My Daddy was a hard-working farmer.
My Mother taught in a Country Schoolhouse,
but when they were married, she took on
the role of a full-time Farmer’s Wife.
She loved being surrounded by Extended Family.
Growing up in a Family with eight siblings,
her older sister, Enid, did most of the cooking,
my Mother did most of the cleaning.
Typical that she’s the one with the broom
when cleaning up after our Family Reunion in 1964.
Here it is…
It was such a wonderful weekend.
I was eight years old, so I have sweet memories
of family fun with aunts and uncles and cousins.
The fact that my mother grew up cleaning instead of in the kitchen,
explains why she didn’t enjoy cooking.
I took over that kitchen responsibility when I was in High School,
preparing meals for the men that worked on the farm.
Fast forward about four decades.
She loved her role as Grammy to these girls,
and cherished time that she spent with family…
with her granddaughters, and nieces and nephews.
Of course she was always organized and prepared.
She had written her own obituary and planned her own funeral.
Those plans were in a special file box, along with this poem…
“Miss me but let Me Go”
Google image
Sweet Memories.
We loved you and we miss you.
Take care,
~Natalie
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