Sept. 11, 1934 – July 1, 2009

I had the honor of taking care of my mom (with the help of countless other wonderful people) for the last few months of her life. I want no credit for that. It was a privilege and a great opportunity to spend that quality time with her. It was just like two girlfriends spending the day together. One day, I walked into her bedroom. She was lying in bed and noticed that my back was hurting. She said “Here, lie down with me.” So I laid across the end of her bed and we began talking about silly things, like who we saw when we were out and about, what they were wearing, their hair and, uncharacteristically for her, some of her comments weren’t so nice. We laughed till my stomach hurt, like two kids at a slumber party.

If she was able, we’d take little rides to get milkshakes and root beer floats from Steak ’n Shake. If you’d never been a passenger in her car, you missed the ride of your life. She drove with one foot on the brake and one on the gas. She knew only two speeds: go fast, and stop. We were driving down Sixth Street. towards downtown one time and she was going 15 mph down the middle of two lanes. I told her she was going to get a ticket and she said, like my Nona used to, “I no givee damn.” That was my mom; dancing to her own drummer – fitting, as she was a dance teacher here in Springfield for over 40 years – not caring what other people thought and doing her own thing.

Christmas was a whole different story at my mom’s. We would go to her home for presents, going from the youngest to the oldest. That took a very long time, with patience growing thin and stomachs growling — even though we had consumed an eight-course meal at the restaurant just a couple of hours ago.

Instead of a tree, we had a mechanical Santa that sang various holiday songs, and even though it was rather small, it was very festive. Presents took up a six-foot radius around this Santa and the kids fought over who would get to pass them out.

I already painfully miss those times, knowing that I was there for her, but wondering if it was enough. Now as the grandmother and mom of my immediate family, I hope I can step into that position as gracefully, generously and kindly as she did. I already miss her more that I can express, but I take comfort in the fact that she is at peace with my dad — dancing with the angels.

Linda Stoutamyer Springfield