My Mother: Changes and Memories

My Motherʼs name was Agnes. She was the most beautiful woman I ever knew; inside and out. She was strong yet soft. She taught me how to be a mother, a woman and a good friend. She was brave when I needed courage. She had wisdom when I felt that I knew it all. She believed in me when I had doubts about myself. She sang songs, baked cookies and taught me to dance the Hully Gully in our living room.

When she hugged me, she smelled like lilacs and lavender. She taught me the value of a good cup of tea in a china cup and a bath at the end of a long day. Growing up, our house smelled like Lemon Pledge and Lipton tea. We always had the best junk food in our house. My friend and I would try to sneak more than she would allow but Mom always seemed to know what we were up to.

As a Grandmother, she had a kitchen drawer filled with hidden treasures, like Milky Way Bars and Kit Kat bars. The grand kids say that my Mother had the best coloring books money could buy. My Mother was a gymnast, a dancer, a nurseʼs aide and a seamstress. She loved knitting, and the color purple, carnations, New Hampshire vacations, the Autumn leaves, and most importantly, the Boston Red Sox. She taught me about life and about love. She taught me how to turn a house into a home, and at Christmas, into a Village at the North Pole. She made me eat my vegetables, but let my children have root beer with breakfast.

She taught me that being soft isnʼt being weak and that no matter how hard I might fall, I do have the strength to get back up again. My sister describes my Mother as “always having been a lady”, no matter what struggle she was faced with. Agnes was a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a sister, an aunt, a confidant, a mentor, and she was my best friend.

While her body was strong, her memory began to leave her, and the world we shared changed forever.

When my mother moved to a skilled care facility, they called her “Aggie”. Over time, I had the honor of getting to know Aggie very well. Aggie was funny, carefree, loving, and warm. She still enjoyed spending time with her family. While she could no longer sing, she still loved to dance with my stepfather. Beside her bed were two boxes filled with cards and letters from those who loved her. When she could no longer read them herself, our family would read them to her. In her bed she slept with a pink pillow that had “Boston Red Sox” written in bold letters; some things never changed.

Aggie too, was the most beautiful woman I have ever known; inside and out. Aggie taught me how to speak without needing words and how to truly listen. She helped me face my worst fears. She taught me the meaning of forgiveness, love, faith and grace. Aggie made many new friends; they were nurses, aides, cleaning ladies, cooks, gardeners, visitors, and other residents, but she loved her old friends just the same, and we all loved her.

Three days before she died, we went outside and picked pine cones and purple flowers and had one last cup of tea together. As Aggie was leaving us, her new friends joined my sister and me at her bedside to say goodbye and we all shed tears together. In the final moments, three of her best new friends sat at her bedside, held her hands and stayed with her until we arrived. They loved her like she was their Mother too and for this, I am eternally grateful.

I am the woman I am today because my mother blessed me with her love and because she believed in me, even when I didnʼt believe in myself. She was my candle in the darkness. I miss her more than words can say. May she rest in peace and live on through us and between us.

Elizabeth and her husband have 2 teen daughters. Since age 8, she has known she would certainly become a nurse, and has been providing nursing care for over 20 years. She lives in mid-coast Maine.