She’s my Mom. She was my first best friend. She loved me.

My Mom was a spoiler of kids and grandkids. She loved them all. If you were fortunate enough to be related to her by blood or by “adoption”, she took great delight in loving on you and making your world a better place.

On the day that Elvis died, she and I were in a little park in Carlsbad, NM. They had a small lake with peddle boats on it. I had always wanted to ride on one, but Mom was little skeptical. Finally, I convinced her to ride it with me. We did. Then, we found a small coffee shop that looked out over the lake and we were eating ice cream when the radio announced that “the King” was dead. It’s such an arbitrary thing to remember about a day, but what I treasure about that day was Mom, being with her, convincing her to do something that she was uncomfortable with and having fun in the process.

I loved shopping with her. In Albuquerque, there was an old Penney’s store. It had those big old stairs in the center-back of the store that lead up to a section of the store. We were heading downstairs to pay for our purchases when her sandal caught on the trim strip at the edge of the stair and she tripped. She fell down the stairs, head first. I ran down to her, the manager rushed over as did many of the customers. I knew my Mom and knew she was going to be embarrassed. I helped her sit up and the manager wouldn’t let her leave until he “assessed” her condition. As a nurse, that made Mom start to giggle. Bruised, certainly. But her condition, was fine. So she giggled and giggled. She looked at me and I started laughing. We sat on those stairs and laughed for 10 minutes. The manager was so confused, at first he thought she was hysterical, but he finally understood that she must be fine. And she was. We laughed our way to the car and then went home. As we retold the story that night at dinner, my Aunt and my Mom both laughed and laughed until they were crying. That’s how she dealt with situations like that… she laughed.

Mom always said you had a choice, you could laugh or you could cry and she would always choose laughter. Believe me, she did. Her favorite quote was, “Two men looked out through prison bars. One saw mud; one say stars.” Then she’d look at me and say, “Look for the stars.”

I’m looking for stars.

She taught me about Jesus. She took me to church and helped me to find a foundation for living my life in a way that pleased Him and made her proud. Mom taught by example because she loved Jesus first.

As a single mom, she spoiled me more than she should have. As a grandmother, she was out of control — I often threatened to send her to her room. Around her, we always had a sense of belonging and safety, Mug Root Beer, Sundae Cones, cinnamon sugar toast, bread with butter and sugar, dark chocolate frosting on saltines, artichokes, pomegranates, Persian Roll donuts, dilly bars, French fries whenever her grandson said, “Fries!” An N-64 with a couple of games for Christmas. Dinner at their favorite restaurant for their birthday, singing around the piano, gallons of hot chocolate, the SOUND OF MUSIC at the drive in, drives in the mountains and in the desert… so many memories. So many hugs. So many gifts. So much laughter. So much love.

She had been slowing down for a few years, but her heart and spirit never changed.

She loved. She loved deeply. She loved richly and those of us who received her love are incredibly blessed.

I love you, Mom! I miss you. I’ll see you again and when I do, I’ll take one of your hugs.