My sister Pat called yesterday to let me know our mother had died that morning. She’d been declining recently but I didn’t think there was any reason not to believe she had at least a few months, maybe more, left, so the news came as something of a shock. On the other hand she’d told Pat recently she’d had a great life, and I know she didn’t want to linger in her recent condition.
Mom was born while World War I was being fought, she was 12 when the Great Depression began, and she was married a year and a half before we entered World War II. During that war she served in the Coast Guard. Pat was born the year after Dad returned from Navy duty in the Phillippines, and Mom stayed at home to raise her, Jan, and me. After we left home she did some volunteer work, notably at the local library.
When Dad retired he and she spent about a year traveling around the country before settling in North Carolina. Dad died there in 1988 and Mom stayed on her own in the house they’d bought until 1999 when she moved to Houston, near Pat, and she lived the rest of her life there.
Mom tended to be quiet and reserved, and almost never had a bad word to say about anyone. She let her children go our own way when we were ready, but was always there for us. I am going to miss her.