Tuesday, April 15, 2008

OT, Hoping You'll Indulge Me

This post is dedicated to my mom.

Shirley Jean Hovaten Ham Becker died about 3:30 am on April 5th. I know she died when she was supposed to, but earlier than she should have. I'm just grateful to God I was visiting when she passed away and didn't have to receive one of those long-distance, middle-of-the-night calls.

She was one of those women who came out of a childhood environment social workers would condemn today, and given enough staff, would sweep in and save the children. Back then, it was pretty much up to the children to save themselves.

Mom passed on that beautiful strength to my sister and I. From her, we also received our love of reading and books—especially mysteries and suspense—and our love of animals and nature. She blessed me with the slow-to-go-gray gene and my sister with hazel eyes.

Mom was diagnosed with COPD and CHF ten years ago. I believe she's free of pain today and finds it easier to love and be loved. Her obituary talks about her enjoyment of card games, and I'm here to tell you she loved to win.

Right now I drift between not believing her death is real to feeling immeasurable loss. Faith and family are the great connectors for all things rough in this life.

And, oh yeah—friends.


  1. Peg, I'm so sorry to hear of your loss. It's only been less than 15 months since my mom went to be with the Lord. The emotional fluctuations are normal, but very hard to deal with. While I know she's so much better off, there still aren't too many days that go by that I wish I could pick up the phone and hear her voice. Praying for you, my friend.

  2. Peg, I wish I could say something that would ease your sorrow but unfortunately, I can't. You'll always miss her, but you'll always have wonderful memories. My dad passed away six years ago and I still can't believe he's gone. He used to plant sunflowers for me in his garden. No more garden-no more sunflowers, but there is that special memory.

    I send you love, thoughts and prayers.

  3. Margie, I used to call my mom just about every day at 4. The day a month or so ago when she got a trach and we could talk was a miracle. I heard my mother's voice again. The most important thing she said? "I love you." Thank you so much for your prayers.

    Oh, Jess. I'll be thinking of you and your dad whenever I see a sunflower. What a wonderful memory. I know some memories of my own will get separated from the chaff in time. Thanks for your kind words.

  4. Peg,
    Your tribute to your mother is lovely. It's tough to lose a parent, but I know you can be comforted to think your father was waiting to welcome her -- a joyous thought.
    All the best,
    Pat Browning

  5. Peg, you are in my prayers. I'm sorry to read about your loss. I was thrilled to read that she knew the Lord because now I know I'll get to meet your sweet Mama someday soon.