Memories of Mom
As several key dates converge, I also unpack being the same age now as my mother when she unexpectedly died.
MOM
The word MOTHER is synonymous with much more than just a role as parent. Our mother was a friend, an advisor, and, many times, someone to just laugh with.
Mom had this endearing, youthful quality that she often didn’t think was appropriate for a mother of six kids. But it was when she let herself get a little crazy and wacky that she was happiest.
A few years ago, I was home from college and Mom and I went to see a movie, one of her favorite things to do. We were waiting for the film to start in the theater, which was nearly empty, when Mom realized she had not taken off the dozen or so rubber bands that she put on her wrist at work earlier in the day. Well, instead of putting the rubber bands in her pocket, she began to shoot them off in the theater until they were all gone.
It’s that playful, carefree person that was such a large part of who Mom was. She was an incredibly selfless person - Mom always put herself second to us.
Although Mom has left us in body, her soul and spirit will always be present in our lives.
She will always be our friend, our advisor, someone to laugh with and, forever, our Mother.
Patsy Jean Halterman
May 8, 1935 - April 29, 1993
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The above are words that I wrote and read at my mother’s funeral 31 years ago. I haven’t looked at this in a long time but, for me and my immediate family, it’s that time of year again when memories of our mother come flooding back. This happens every year starting in late April and into May for a few reasons.
First, Patsy Jean Halterman (née Graf) died on April 29, 1993 of a sudden heart attack. I was 26 years old with four sisters (Diane, Sue, Cathy and Nancy) who were older than me, my brother Mike a year younger and our Dad, Jim Sr.. The anniversary of her passing was earlier this week (it still surprises me that she’s been gone 31 years, which is longer than I had her in my life) so I did what became a tradition for myself decades ago. On this day, I make sure to have a delicious, no-calorie-counting dessert and this year was no different (see photo of mango sticky rice later in this post). If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Mom approves of this as a fitting tribute.
She was not a professional baker. Instead, she was a wife, mother and housewife for a long time before returning to work once my brother and I were in middle school as a non-foods clerk at Martin’s Super Market in South Bend, Indiana. She’d be the one responsible for filling the store’s shelves with all the hair, teeth cleaning and medicinal products. Her particular job and how products were delivered to her to stock the shelves is why she had rubber bands on her wrist that day we went to the movies. (Boxes would be delivered to the store wrapped together by rubber bands so as she stocked, she’d put them on her wrist so by the end of the day she had quite a rubber band bracelet on her wrist). But she also loved sweets and desserts so there was rarely a time in our home on 28th Street when cookies, cupcakes, a cake or pie could not be found.
I never learned how to change the oil in a car from my Dad (maybe I’ll save that for a Father’s Day post someday!) but my Mom taught me the ins and outs of baking. I learned important rules like following a recipe has its merits though putting your own spin on things was okay. Always use no salt butter and never the more inexpensive margarine. And if you’re baking a cake from a store-bought cake mix, you always reach for Betty Crocker even if Duncan Hines (or any other brand) is on sale. Always.
I’ve imparted all her baking wisdom into my own traditions I keep alive today like the annual baking of pumpkin cookies in the fall, fudge for Christmas and trying new recipes like cheesecake and pineapple upside down cake along the way. And watching shows like Top Chef and other TV cooking shows is a constant reminder that anyone can get in the kitchen and make some food magic.
Besides the anniversary of her unexpected passing on April 29, the other reminders that come annually at this time of year are on May 8 (her birthday, she would’ve been 89 this year) and then Mother’s Day always lands around this time, too. This year, that day is May 12. And, yes, desserts will be had to mark all these events.
What’s significant about this year with Mom’s death is that I am now the age she was when she died. That just feels weird and odd in ways I cannot even articulate. The thought of her life ending at this age just doesn’t seem fair at all. I know at 57, I don’t feel like my life is anywhere close to being over especially less than a year after I took a big leap and moved to the other side of the world with my husband, Boyd. When I was younger, 57 seemed old but now, I have a lot more life I plan on living.
But I can’t help but think, did Mom have an idea that she wouldn’t live to be very old? I don’t know. She and I would talk about mortality in a general sense but never come to any grand conclusions about what heaven or hell was like. One thing I remember her saying is if she ever was being kept alive by machines, to please pull the plug. (I feel exactly the same way, in case anyone ever needs to know my thoughts on the subject)
Thankfully (I guess), it never came to that. I got the call that she had had a heart attack from my Grandmother. I had gone back to school at Indiana University in Bloomington to finish my double Bachelor’s Degree so I was about 4 hours away by car and I knew the minute I heard Grandma’s voice that something was wrong. Once I heard what had happened and that Mom was in the hospital and not conscious, I had to get home quick. I arranged to pick up my brother, Mike, at the Indianapolis airport since he was flying in from North Carolina where he was living and I’d be driving right through Indy on my way to South Bend. Thankfully, we did make it home to see her alive but she never regained consciousness and passed the next day, close to 24 hours after she’d had the heart attack.
Once she was gone, I didn’t know what else to do so I went into maintenance mode and helped my equally stunned Dad with preparations. Mom was the youngest of seven siblings and most of them were still alive at this point so I took it upon myself to call as many of them as I could to tell them the news. Most of them were no longer in Indiana so travel time for the funeral was a consideration since we knew they’d want to be there. I don’t know how I did it but I do know I needed to be of use and keep busy since just dwelling on the tragedy that had just happened wasn’t something I was interested in at the time. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism to put off really feeling what I was feeling but, for me anyway, that maintenance mode is a comfort in its own way.
As a family, we also talked about the service and some Bible passages typically read at funeral services were chosen. We weren’t a religious family by any stretch and it was ironic to me that at a time like a major death that religion suddenly becomes a big part of the conversation. But if that’s what everyone needed at this time, I wasn’t going to argue or openly question it. However, it did feel weird to me to only read a passage from a book that wasn’t a big part of my life. It felt more like something I should do for everyone else. But what I did I need? I needed to write something. I told my siblings that I’d read whatever they wanted me to but I also wanted to write something. I didn’t know what that would be yet but I knew I needed to do this for Mom and for me. Nobody disagreed.
I knew it would have to be something that would express who Mom was for all of us but I also wanted something that would alleviate some of the heavy, depressing vibe that comes with a funeral setting. The story about her shooting off rubber bands in the middle of a near-empty movie theater seemed like the perfect choice. I don’t say what the movie was in the reading but I’m pretty sure it was Beaches (no, I wasn’t out yet to my family yet but, come on, if any twenty-something, unmarried man goes to see a Bette Midler drama with his mother, the mystery isn’t much of a mystery!)
I remember standing in front of everyone at the funeral home reading what I wrote and the story was met with waves of laughter that quickly turned to sniffles and tears. That momentary break of laughter is all I wanted from that reading so mission accomplished. Afterwards, a lot of people came up to me saying how much they loved that story. Her older brother Jerry pulled me aside at some point and asked me if it was really true since he didn’t see his little sister doing something as unruly as shooting rubber bands in a movie theater. He laughed with tears in his eyes when I told him that the story was very true.
The whole experience, which I’m reliving as I write this, is helpful in thinking about what kind of grief I hold for Mom even after she’s been gone more than three decades. As I’ve been researching the idea of grief for something I am working on (see my post on Anderson Cooper talking about grief on his podcast for more on that), I would say it never completely leaves you and that’s not a bad thing. Everyone has their own journey depending on their circumstances but I know that my grief at this point isn’t wrapped in sadness and depressing thoughts, which doesn’t mean I don’t miss her and wish she were still here.
Instead, I think of the laughter, the meals we ate together at the kitchen table, jokes my siblings and I would play on her (Mom was incredibly gullible and we took advantage of it every chance we could), the movies and TV shows we watched together and the books we shared since besides baking, Mom also instilled in me a love for reading. There were many drives to the local library so I could check out the maximum number of books allowed and read every last one of them while she had the latest Sidney Sheldon or Pat Conroy novel to read (which, when I was older, she’d pass along to me or vice versa). To this day I often watch a movie or TV show or read a good book and think “Mom would’ve liked that one.”
I don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about why she left us so early and what could’ve been done differently. All I know is that it sucked then and it sucks now. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t quietly envy people that still have their mothers. If that’s you, know that you’re lucky and make sure on Mother’s Day (and every day for that matter) you show her some extra love.
If you’re like me and don’t have your mother in this world anymore, I suggest doing something memorable as a tribute to her memory if you don’t already. Watch one of her favorite movies. Share some stories with others who knew her. Maybe even with some people who didn’t. And if that tribute ends up being a cupcake or some other delicious dessert, I bet she’d most definitely approve.
Below is the print out of what I read at my mother’s funeral. [Please excuse a few grammar errors I didn’t catch in 1993!] I had this printed out and framed for each of my siblings but couldn’t find my own printout. Thanks to my sister Cathy, who sent me a photo of hers.
If you do have a tradition tied to the memory of your Mother, please leave me a note in the comments or send me a direct message. I’d love to hear it.
On a separate note, if you want to see more of what my life in Bangkok, Thailand with my husband, Boyd and Mango the cat, we’ve started a YouTube page with videos and reels of the amazing places we’ve been visiting. Be sure to subscribe so you’ll be alerted when we post new videos.
And, last but not least, a pineapple upside down cake I made. It’s much easier to bake than you think!
I have such great memories of your mom and her laugh! All of us that grew up on 28th street probably all have a story about your mom (or all the other moms too!)
Thank you for sharing this. Mom has only been gone 2.5 years and there are so many memories and stories we all share. I agree, it sucks now and will always suck!
Take care!
beautiful