Dear Mom,
It's been nearly a month since you died. It's about time that I wrote this blog post to you. I haven't been avoiding it really... well actually I have. But it's not because I've been avoiding yet another final form of good-bye to you... well maybe a little. Though the primary reason I've been avoiding it is because the bar has felt so high for this post. There is still so much that needs to be said to you, and about you, and now for you. I don't even know where to start, and I certainly don't know what the ending message looks like either. I think I'll start with a pic, followed by some passages that different people have written and/or said. Why reinvent the wheel, right?
Here's what Will had to say about you:
"Colleen Rae Anderson, née Richardson, née Fruhwirth, née Emery (1953-2017).
Self portrait, July 2017.
A fabulous, inspiring gal with a crazy-quilt outlook on life: always looking for scraps of overlooked discards to combine into something beautiful and new. A collector, a dreamer; an organizer, a planner.
A courageous woman who spent her whole adult life giving care: to a child with a disability, to three other kids who love her fiercely, to the men in her life, to older adults in nursing homes during various gigs, to her parents throughout their lives and especially at the end, and most of all to all of her grandchildren, the ones who knew her from birth as Grammy and the ones who met her as Colleen.
I am so lucky to even have met this woman; it is my singular honor and extremely good fortune to be her son.
I have so much more to say; I have nothing to say. I wish my mom were here."
Laurel:
"Little did I know that just under 24 hours ago when I hugged my mom goodbye it would be for the last time. Shortly after she walked out of the house, in typical Colleen fashion, she accidentally called my from her car in front of my house while meaning to call her husband Mark. She laughed at herself and said "oops! Meant to call Mark." I will never forget you, Mom. Miss you so much right now. Give our Jenny and your parents and my Papa hugs. You were taken from me too soon."
Megan:
"I've started this post multiple times, erased and tried again. We lost Grammy last night in a completely sudden way. My heart is aching for a million reasons. For my hubby, my BIL/SIL, her hubby, her friends, her extended family, and most of all for her grandkids. Grammy was an amazing MIL-she took me in immediately and I gained another mother from the very beginning. But what Grammy did the best of the best was be a Grammy. She lived for her grandkids and they lived for her. I'm grieving that we won't be hanging out on the porch next summer eagerly awaiting her arrival. I'm so sad that I won't have to remind the kids for the 500th time that she'll be here after lunch. I'm so sad that I won't get to hear them squeal "Grammy!" As their feet fly down the steps into her home away from home in our basement.
She was/is amazing and has always reminded me to dare greatly. Wear the funky clothes. Go on the trip. Eat fish and chips. Blast the music. Eat some chocolate. Don't apologize about winning solitaire. Keep Russell in line. I will miss you hard. And so will our kids. And I will hold these kids extra tight, under the wonderful quilts you made, and will probably continue to wait for your arrival in June. Much love...your DIL "
Michael said this:
"Colleen was my first friend and playmate. I remember playing with her when she was two. I pulled her around the backyard in my little red wagon and we pretended we were pioneers in a covered wagon. We made a campfire with dandelion blossoms as the flames.
A fabulous, inspiring gal with a crazy-quilt outlook on life: always looking for scraps of overlooked discards to combine into something beautiful and new. A collector, a dreamer; an organizer, a planner.
A courageous woman who spent her whole adult life giving care: to a child with a disability, to three other kids who love her fiercely, to the men in her life, to older adults in nursing homes during various gigs, to her parents throughout their lives and especially at the end, and most of all to all of her grandchildren, the ones who knew her from birth as Grammy and the ones who met her as Colleen.
I am so lucky to even have met this woman; it is my singular honor and extremely good fortune to be her son.
I have so much more to say; I have nothing to say. I wish my mom were here."
Laurel:
"Little did I know that just under 24 hours ago when I hugged my mom goodbye it would be for the last time. Shortly after she walked out of the house, in typical Colleen fashion, she accidentally called my from her car in front of my house while meaning to call her husband Mark. She laughed at herself and said "oops! Meant to call Mark." I will never forget you, Mom. Miss you so much right now. Give our Jenny and your parents and my Papa hugs. You were taken from me too soon."
Megan:
"I've started this post multiple times, erased and tried again. We lost Grammy last night in a completely sudden way. My heart is aching for a million reasons. For my hubby, my BIL/SIL, her hubby, her friends, her extended family, and most of all for her grandkids. Grammy was an amazing MIL-she took me in immediately and I gained another mother from the very beginning. But what Grammy did the best of the best was be a Grammy. She lived for her grandkids and they lived for her. I'm grieving that we won't be hanging out on the porch next summer eagerly awaiting her arrival. I'm so sad that I won't have to remind the kids for the 500th time that she'll be here after lunch. I'm so sad that I won't get to hear them squeal "Grammy!" As their feet fly down the steps into her home away from home in our basement.
She was/is amazing and has always reminded me to dare greatly. Wear the funky clothes. Go on the trip. Eat fish and chips. Blast the music. Eat some chocolate. Don't apologize about winning solitaire. Keep Russell in line. I will miss you hard. And so will our kids. And I will hold these kids extra tight, under the wonderful quilts you made, and will probably continue to wait for your arrival in June. Much love...your DIL "
Michael said this:
"Colleen was my first friend and playmate. I remember playing with her when she was two. I pulled her around the backyard in my little red wagon and we pretended we were pioneers in a covered wagon. We made a campfire with dandelion blossoms as the flames.
Later, when Kevin was born, we graduated to Disney chipmunks. I was Chip and Colleen was Dale. And so it went.
Time and distance pulled us apart and now I will never see Colleen again. Yet her smile will always be with me and her spirit held close to my heart."
Kevin had these words he said at your funeral (yeah, we had a funeral, all about YOU, get over it):
“I write these words as I am working on the video presentation of Colleen’s life. A line from a TV series, the West Wing, comes to mind that they borrowed from Tom Hank’s Academy Awards acceptance speech. ‘The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels. We know their names. They finally rest in the warm embrace of the gracious creator of us all. A healing embrace that cools their fevers, that clears their skin, and allows their eyes to see the simple, self-evident, common sense truth that is made manifest by the benevolent creator of us all.'”
I also wrote and gave a little speech to everyone at your funeral. Writing it really helped me collect my thoughts and feelings and process them. It's a few pages long, so I'll paste that in a new blog post directly following this one.
I just re-read your final letter to Laurel, Will, and me. You were in a peaceful and happy time of your life, proud of us 3 children to the end. You had come a long way in understanding and cutting through all of your guilt - but some still remained: "Writing to apologize for robbing you children of time and family." I'm sad that you carried this burden with you for so long! Yet, I also feel quite honored and proud to have personally helped you through much of this relentless guilt. Many people never grow close to their parents, and/or take them for granted their whole lives. I find a lot of peace and happiness in knowing that we were close, and that we helped each other through difficult times. We learned from each other as people.
I also know for a fact that the lovely Megan was truly influential to you as well, and I am happy I was a witness. She's served as a definitive emotional compass for untold numbers of people on this world by now. She helps us all to understand our own feelings much better and also to navigate toward a more holistic and healthy mental path. I don't truly understand the way in which she does this, indeed that's part of the magic. Much like she doesn't truly understand how I work either, yet appreciates me too. In the end, Megan and I are both quite rational people. We express and exercise that rationality differently and often take different paths to reach the same goal or conclusion. That seems to be how we work well together.
There I go, taking a blog post dedicated to Grammy and relating it to my own family and life. That's what this is about anyway, I suppose.
Speaking of "Grammy", I had a thought this morning. I feel quite content with how our relationship ended up. You were a significant part of my life until I was 36, and Laurel and Will 34 and 32 respectively. You taught me a lot, helped me grow into who I am now. You also helped greatly to raise the young grandchildren, especially when they were infants. This helped us all far more than you know. You were Mother to 3 of us humans. Along the way you were Grammy for 6 humans. How about that? There was some inflection point where Grammy became the primary you. Witnessing this happen, and you evolve, was truly an honor. I feel like you got to realize another of your true purposes, even if only for awhile. This is also what makes me feel the saddest, when I think about the 20-30 more years of memories that would have been made. How you would have been a significant part of the grandchildrens' lives as they grow up. How you would have helped them each out, been there for them, provided a warm shelter for whatever storm they were experiencing. I had the luck of experiencing these things from my own grandparents as I grew up. One could be so lucky.
Anyhow, I'm starting to ramble. While that may be a welcome and fun thing to read for some unnamed future audience (hopefully my own amazing spawn who have grown happy and rich), for others it is surely eye-roll-worthy. More importantly, we've got things to do! Laurel and her kids are driving here today along with Papa and Granny Barb, and Will is flying in tonight. We'll be together for Thanksgiving, and we're all looking forward to it. Embrace life while we've got it. Your final lesson to us all.
Love you forever Colleen, Mother. Oh and the last line of your letter to us said to "Keep on keepin on." We will! -Russell
Time and distance pulled us apart and now I will never see Colleen again. Yet her smile will always be with me and her spirit held close to my heart."
Kevin had these words he said at your funeral (yeah, we had a funeral, all about YOU, get over it):
“I write these words as I am working on the video presentation of Colleen’s life. A line from a TV series, the West Wing, comes to mind that they borrowed from Tom Hank’s Academy Awards acceptance speech. ‘The streets of heaven are too crowded with angels. We know their names. They finally rest in the warm embrace of the gracious creator of us all. A healing embrace that cools their fevers, that clears their skin, and allows their eyes to see the simple, self-evident, common sense truth that is made manifest by the benevolent creator of us all.'”
I also wrote and gave a little speech to everyone at your funeral. Writing it really helped me collect my thoughts and feelings and process them. It's a few pages long, so I'll paste that in a new blog post directly following this one.
I just re-read your final letter to Laurel, Will, and me. You were in a peaceful and happy time of your life, proud of us 3 children to the end. You had come a long way in understanding and cutting through all of your guilt - but some still remained: "Writing to apologize for robbing you children of time and family." I'm sad that you carried this burden with you for so long! Yet, I also feel quite honored and proud to have personally helped you through much of this relentless guilt. Many people never grow close to their parents, and/or take them for granted their whole lives. I find a lot of peace and happiness in knowing that we were close, and that we helped each other through difficult times. We learned from each other as people.
I also know for a fact that the lovely Megan was truly influential to you as well, and I am happy I was a witness. She's served as a definitive emotional compass for untold numbers of people on this world by now. She helps us all to understand our own feelings much better and also to navigate toward a more holistic and healthy mental path. I don't truly understand the way in which she does this, indeed that's part of the magic. Much like she doesn't truly understand how I work either, yet appreciates me too. In the end, Megan and I are both quite rational people. We express and exercise that rationality differently and often take different paths to reach the same goal or conclusion. That seems to be how we work well together.
There I go, taking a blog post dedicated to Grammy and relating it to my own family and life. That's what this is about anyway, I suppose.
Speaking of "Grammy", I had a thought this morning. I feel quite content with how our relationship ended up. You were a significant part of my life until I was 36, and Laurel and Will 34 and 32 respectively. You taught me a lot, helped me grow into who I am now. You also helped greatly to raise the young grandchildren, especially when they were infants. This helped us all far more than you know. You were Mother to 3 of us humans. Along the way you were Grammy for 6 humans. How about that? There was some inflection point where Grammy became the primary you. Witnessing this happen, and you evolve, was truly an honor. I feel like you got to realize another of your true purposes, even if only for awhile. This is also what makes me feel the saddest, when I think about the 20-30 more years of memories that would have been made. How you would have been a significant part of the grandchildrens' lives as they grow up. How you would have helped them each out, been there for them, provided a warm shelter for whatever storm they were experiencing. I had the luck of experiencing these things from my own grandparents as I grew up. One could be so lucky.
Anyhow, I'm starting to ramble. While that may be a welcome and fun thing to read for some unnamed future audience (hopefully my own amazing spawn who have grown happy and rich), for others it is surely eye-roll-worthy. More importantly, we've got things to do! Laurel and her kids are driving here today along with Papa and Granny Barb, and Will is flying in tonight. We'll be together for Thanksgiving, and we're all looking forward to it. Embrace life while we've got it. Your final lesson to us all.
Love you forever Colleen, Mother. Oh and the last line of your letter to us said to "Keep on keepin on." We will! -Russell
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