Our mother Sally had a hell of a run having lived and experienced a vast swath of life for over 101 years. She got to hold and love on her great grandchildren. We made fun of her for saying “Gee look at that” when we were driving somewhere; her interest in geology; her writing Letters Home and a Connecticut history with Marsha Barber that was never finished; her beloved horses when she was a kid. All of these experiences made her who she was to us. She was emotional and real and stuck with dad thru thick and thin.
Some of my happiest moments in recent history were when she and I talked on the phone, one of us would crack a joke and we would start hopelessly laughing. She loved red raspberries. She loved to Charleston with that kneecap hand-thing. She could belt out “What should we do with a drunken sailor?” while playing it on the piano. She had a high soprano yodel that she called dad with and he would answer back in his true tenor. I loved all those moments even though at the time I didn’t realize how much.
Over the last several years as her dementia worsened, she time-traveled more and more: riding her beloved horses and summering in Greensboro, Vt. at her parent’s childhood cottage. Perhaps this is the way that old age prepares us to transition to the other side.
As Roy Rogers used to sing, “Happy trails to you until we meet again.” You were well loved Ma. See you again someday.