“I love you more.” That is what Mom always said whenever we told her we loved her. There is no doubt in my mind that she did. Mom loved deeply and unconditionally. She had the grace to forgive and the strength to bear whatever curve balls life threw at her. Mom always kept her promises. During her final weeks, she told me not to cry because we would see each other again. I believe that promise.
Mom often told me a story about holding me as an infant and whispering in my ear that I would take care of her in her old age. It was my greatest honor to do that, but I truly always felt that it was she who was taking care of me. I was safe with Mom and was blessed to be right by her side for so many years.
“Betty”, as I fondly called her frequently, took her time on her final journey to Heaven. She cheated death from the time she was four years old, and when it became apparent there would be no comeback this time, we were able to do a slow dance towards her final destination. I will always be grateful for that even though those months were both terrifying and beautiful. Terrifying for me because I knew her time on earth was getting shorter each day. Beautiful because of the many, many special moments we shared. There was nothing left unsaid or undone. The kisses, the hugs, the holding hands … her grip was still firm and reassuring… the conversations we had, and listening to those Mom was having with loved ones already in Heaven. She told Roberta she had a secret that God told her, but she couldn’t tell her what it was or even give a hint. Because of the peaceful presence surrounding Mom after she went to her heavenly home, I have no doubt in my mind that she did indeed have a secret. Her passing actually gave us a peek into Heaven because Mom looked like an angel.
Betty was truly ahead of her time in so many ways. A single mother when that wasn’t the norm; a “detective” before there was an internet; a gutsy defender of the downtrodden, whether she knew them or not. Many years ago, we were dining at a fast-food restaurant where a man was treating an employee badly. When we finished eating, Mom strolled up to him and gave him a piece of her mind, ending with the statement, made rather loudly, “You’re not a man, you’re a MOUSE!”
Many times, Mom used her sleuth skills to track down her daughters, including the time I was visiting a friend who lived in a dorm at Pepperdine. Imagine my surprise when a sorority sister asked if there was anyone named Jene in the dorm and then informed me, in front of dozens of people, that my Mother was on the phone …
One of the toughest things I ever had to do is move Mom out of her home on Eilers. She loved “1221” and terribly missed the home in which she lived with her mother, father, and siblings. It was the home in which she was born and where she raised her own children. Circumstances made it impossible for her to continue living in her beloved home. I carried great sorrow and even guilt about it, but in true Betty fashion, she relieved me of that burden by telling me that her home was wherever we were together.
An often-told story was a prophecy of sorts. Mom said one day she was feeling blue and was concerned about what the future held for her. As a little girl, I told her, “Mommy, don’t worry. I will take care of you and we’ll live in a big, beautiful house.” I’m not sure size really mattered much to Mom. She was content in her little home on Eilers, with worn carpet and walls scarred by many encounters with her Jazzy wheelchair in tight quarters. Regardless, we made our home together and did our best to honor family traditions and preserve memories throughout the decades in the family home.
Time with those she loved is what Mom cherished the most. She enjoyed nothing more than a lazy Sunday spent in pajamas, watching her favorite TV shows, and eating a home-cooked meal. Mom loved to eat and often boasted that in her younger days, she could out-eat her brothers. In fact, a little more than 24 hours before she went to Heaven, she opened her eyes and said, “Get me a meal!”
Mom was very stylish and had beautiful clothes, but her favorites were those lovingly and expertly sewn by Aunt Mitzi. Betty wore those outfits proudly and always looked like a million bucks in them. Aunt Mitzi made her dozens of outfits, but the one that stands out to me was created from the discarded fabric used to cover statues in the church during Lent. Mitzi whipped up a stunning outfit from that deep purple cloth. There were many compliments and questions about where Mom got that outfit.
Betty insisted that shoes and purses should match, and was dismayed that I toted around the same purse and rarely matched it to my shoes. Her handbag was always very heavy because she saved coins for coveted trips to Cripple Creek or Black Hawk. Mom loved slot machines and was pretty lucky.
She also enjoyed cruises and we were fortunate to go on a dozen. A favorite memory is when Mom’s wheelchair – with her in it – was strapped to a boat that transported passengers from the ship when it couldn’t dock in the port. Mom was bouncing along to the rhythm of the waves, hair blowing in the sea breeze, and was having a great time. I, on the other hand, had my arms locked around the base of her wheelchair, scared that it would come loose and she’d go flying off into the Caribbean sea.
Mom prayed the Rosary twice every day at 9:30 in the morning and 7:30 in the evening. Woe to the person who called during those times. Once, Mom had a cold that settled in her ears and her hearing was muffled. When I got home from work and stepped out of my car, the pavement on Eilers Avenue was vibrating because the volume on the TV was so loud. As I got closer to the house and touched the metal gate, it was buzzing too and Mother Angelica could be heard plain as day reciting the rosary on that old TV with volume that was off the charts. Thankfully, her plugged ears did not last too long. The neighbors were probably grateful, too.
Mom proudly served our country in the Women’s Army Corp. She loved our flag and always stood for the National Anthem, even when she could no longer do it on her own. She spoke about marching in parades in her WAC uniform with tears streaming down her face because she was so proud to serve. Her uniform still hangs in her closet, in perfect condition, and will remain there.
I have never seen a more graceful dancer than Mom. The only dance she couldn’t do, by her own admission, was the Twist. When physical limitations prevented her from dancing, she’d still tap her toes. In those last weeks, we watched a Polka show and she asked me to dance for her. I tried Mom, I tried … At least it brought a smile to her face.
Birthdays were always a big deal for Mom. Her family has memories of being serenaded bright and early, either on the phone or in person. Mom’s own birthday was very special to her. She said she wanted to have a “helluva party” for her 95th, which would have been last Sunday.
Her hospice team wondered what was keeping her here. I believe one of those things was her birthday, so we celebrated early this year. She wanted chocolate cake and balloons. There is comfort in knowing she had a little party with her family here and got a big one with her loved ones in Heaven
It is certain that Grandma reminded Mom of when she threw her own party when she was a kid. It was the family’s tradition back then to have a big party for the 10th birthday. Mom’s sister Nadine was two years older and her birthday was in July. So, true to tradition, Nadine had her party for her 10th birthday. That gave my Mom the bright idea to invite the neighborhood children to HER party the following month. The problem was … she didn’t tell Grandma so she was doing laundry with her usual babushka on when she saw a bunch of kids walking to the house with presents. That is when she learned my Mom had arranged her own bash … two years early. Grandma scrambled and gave the would-be partygoers nuts and raisins. Mom enjoyed many birthdays after her make-shift eighth … nuts and raisins were not on those menus.
I always felt my Mom was invincible and never worried about her prior to December 6, 1994. That was the day she suffered a ruptured aneurysm at the age of 69. Mom dodged death then, just like she had decades earlier when she was in a horrible car accident. Mom was thrown from the car and had serious injuries including a broken back, and severe lacerations to her left arm, which was nearly torn off. A boy scout stopped to help, and she instructed him to take off her slip, make a tourniquet, and tie it “good and damn tight.”
When she was in the hospital with pneumonia as a four year old, her brother Joe promised her he would bring her a big red ball. The story goes that doctors believed that was what kept her hanging on. I know the last two stories only through the retelling of others, but I was forced to acknowledge that Betty was not immortal after the aneurysm and lived with some degree of fear about losing her every day since that snowy day in December 1994. I am no longer afraid. She is safe in the arms of our Lord and reunited with her family.
Now, Mom is gone from our sight. However, even though there are empty places that she used to fill, my heart is overflowing with love and memories. Mom said she would always be with us and I believe her. Grandma and Grandpa, take care of your baby. You waited a long time for her. We’ll all be together again one day. Until then, I want Mom to have the last word: “I love you more.”
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