Many of my readers may remember a blog I wrote last winter titled You Gotta Have Friends. In that blog, I introduced you to a little coffee shop in my community, called Café Kolache. It’s a place where we are part of small group that gathers in our little town of Beaver, Pennsylvania. We meet at 8:00 a.m., and usually coffee and chit-chat until close to 9:00. Ironically, some of us were not friends when we started going there, but because we are regulars each morning in the same place, conversations began taking place over table tops, and soon we were inviting each other to join in the conversation.
Interactions like our experience there…bringing strangers together to become friends…is not lost on Kristi and Hugh Harper who own and operate this gathering place. They have started a series of videos titled Everybody’s Got a Story. They asked several of us regulars to the shop to sit for improv-style conversations. Hugh Harper served as our quick-witted moderator. I saw the interviews before and after mine, and admit I was nervous because some of the questions were so random and off the norm. My personal 15-20 minute interview was whittled down to a webpage- manageable 3 minutes. You can view the video of my interview from a link on the Café Kolache website or the Café Kolache Facebook page.
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| Mother Mary at one of her "favorite" birthday parties. |
I know there are many women who can’t find a good word to say about their mother-in-law. In fact, I read an article recently1 that said, “according to one study, 60 percent of mother/daughter-in-law relationships — compared to just 15 percent of son/mother-in-law relationships — are strained. Words like “infuriating,” “depressing” and “awful” are only some negative terms used to characterize these tense relationships.”
I wasn’t a young, new bride when I met Mary. Having survived some negative relationships prior to this marriage, I had known other mother-in-laws that were more like the stereo-typical, negative version that are the butt of many jokes. From the moment I met Mary she was kind and loving. Admittedly, I was a little suspicious at first, but soon came to know those qualities as her natural demeanor. My only regret about my relationship with her was that it wasn’t long enough. She only lived about ten more years after I married her son, but in that time I grew to love her very much. I think it’s safe to say she loved me too.
Raised one of seven children in a farm family, her young life was hard. She left home in her early teens to work to help support the family. Her life became better when she met and married her one and only husband. He got a decent job at a local mill, made extra money on the side by playing in a big band at night, they settled into a little Cape Cod bungalow, practiced frugal living, and raised three children.
As a typical post-war bride, she followed the natural order of wives in the 50’s as a stay-at-home mom. She never learned to drive, never handled the household budget, and never desired to make her mark out in the world. She went to work at the local bakery when the kids were older and her oldest daughter started college. It’s was her only post-marriage paid employment.
Soft-spoken, but tough, she was slow to anger, quick to love, willing to understand others, unassuming, and genuinely kind.
By the time I came to know her, she was already a survivor, losing part of a lung to cancer. I was part of the family when she suffered with those who survived the death of her only granddaughter in a terrorist bombing. She also survived the death of her husband, the death of her neighborhood friends, and some of her siblings. The years ticked on.
With each of these events her tiny body became even more fragile. Assisted living became a necessity as her health and physical well-being deteriorated. It was fortunate the she was able to stay in her own home. With all of us children, and paid nursing staff working together, we were able to manage her care.
You would naturally think the memory of losing someone so dear isn’t one you would recall with fondness, but in Mary’s case, I do. She had the best death ever, if there is such a thing.
Once her body started to shut down, the end was coming quickly. As families do, we all came together to be there for the end. For the last hours of her life, as a family, we sat on the bed with her, looked at pictures, played old recordings from her husband’s big band days, sang, and talked to her. We celebrated her life and her memories and her love while she was there among us. Could she hear us? Maybe, maybe not.
As each hour ticked away the breathing became slower, until she was finally at rest. In the end, each of us was still holding onto her, wishing for just a few more moments. It was the end of a life well-lived. After 15 years, I can’t mention her name without tears in my eyes. I still miss her.
Mother Mary’s advice to me when I married her son was that we should “take care of each other.” I try to take care of her son, but it was a blessing to have the opportunity to take care of her too.
And now you know the rest of the story.
You can view other Everybody's Got a Story videos at www.cafekolache.com
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Thanks for sharing The Rest of the Story, Donna! Love hearing of your rich life experiences...in your interview, in your blogs, and in person at the cafe!
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