Eileen and Larry Somers

Last weekend (4.6.18), I slept over at Louise's house. We had gone to Iowa for a play on Friday night and had our MN Quilters meeting on Saturday morning. As I was having some morning coffee and trying to be quiet so she could sleep in, her bladder woke her up. She and I chatted as she opened window shades to let the morning sunshine fill the house. As she stood at the kitchen sink, looking out over the backyard and the maple tree, she commented on how she could picture our mom standing there, looking out. I can't find the words to describe the emotion in the room. Louise's memory of our mother brought that image and love into the kitchen with us. It was so lovely! Louise has always been a "sunshine" girl. She and our mom shared a sunshine-y relationship. The song, "You are my sunshine" has always made me think of the two of them together. - Jeanne

This one isn't a "real" memory, but a story my mom told me (Jeanne) several times when I was little. The entire family took a trip to Florida when I was about two years old. They left me with my Aunt Margaret Pahl (technically, my mom's first cousin's wife). According to my memory of the story, I was just fine during the vacation while my family was gone. When they got back, however, my full-on abandonment fears kicked in. My mom told me that I clung to her and screamed "bloody murder" if she left the room. She told me she couldn't even go to the bathroom without setting me off! This apparently lasted a few weeks after their return from the trip. I don't remember that, but I remember how Nick used to cry when I dropped him off for daycare at Sally Schultz's house. He was fine once I was gone. Alex comforted him and distracted him. But I was a wreck, peeling my son off my leg and closing the door to go to work. 💗

Eileen always had us set up the manger scene at Christmas time with all the figures except baby Jesus. He was usually on her dresser in the bedroom, awaiting Christmas morning. When we were kids, she would allow us to put in a piece of straw each time we did a chore, or something kind, or generally had a positive attitude. I remember loving to "get" to put straw in the creche and kept busy with different jobs around the house to earn the privilege. On Christmas morning, we would make a procession throughout the house. I got to be in front since I was the youngest. (In later years, it was one of the grandchildren in front.) We sang "Silent Night" and held candles as we walked to get the baby Jesus and bring him to the manger. During Lent, she would cut a branch from the lilac bushes and "plant" it in dirt in a vase that Louise still has - green and antique-looking. She would hang purple colored empty eggs from the branches. They had the symbols of the c...

Sometimes, I just wish for one more hug. Or a laugh. Or an "I love you" from her. My mom had her faults and failings just like everyone else on the planet. But her love was strong and true. I miss her always loving me and accepting me just as I am. She would listen and empathize. She was cheerful and encouraging. She was passionately in love with life. She overflowed with joy. The nice thing is that I can love my children like that. Completely. Always. It's also incredibly wonderful that I was blessed with a mom who loved me. Not everyone can say that. I'm also really glad that I am married to someone who loves me deeply. But I can still miss my mom sometimes.