Three Years

I miss her every day.

Maybe this is why I have been feeling so blue lately.

Three years ago I was spending the days and most of the nights with my mother-in-law.  Gary was trying to harvest the corn and soybeans.  Hospice was stopping in frequently.  We knew it was only a matter of time.

On Wednesday evening Gary and I went home to sleep in our own beds.  Sandy stayed overnight with her mom.  In the middle of the night the phone rang.  Sandy said she needed us to come immediately.  She had already called hospice.

When we arrived, Agnes was vcry close to taking her last breaths.  The hospice nurse was so kind, so understanding, so compassionate. 

I will never forget --- Sandy was spooning ice chips and turned to say something to us.  Then she turned back and said "I think she is gone."  She was.

Why do I miss her so much?

Because she was my mother-in-law.

Because my husband was her first born and she taught him well how to take care of himself and to help around the house.

Because she taught him how to be a good husband by the relationship she had with his father.

Because she never once treated me like an outsider, but always like her daughter

Because she was the best grandmother I could have ever wanted for my daughters.  She babysat both of them from the times I returned to school to teach after they were born until they were ready to go to kindergarten.

Because she never said no to their getting off the bus at their house after school or getting on the bus there in the morning

Because she never missed a school program, a musical event, or a basketball game

Because she helped with foods projects, especially those involving yeast, and supported the girls through their many 4-H projects

Because she understood what I was going through with my mother and she was there to fill the gaps when I needed a mom

Because she taught me what a mother, and a mother-in-law, and a grandmother should be

I miss meals that she used to make.  Turkey salad.  Salmon patties.  Beef and noodles with mashed potatoes.  Goulash. 

I miss things she used to say.  "It's always something."  "We have lemons."  "You just never know"

I also remember the look in her eyes when she realized that there was nothing they could do for the bladder cancer and that hospice was coming in because her days were numbered.

I miss her.

I miss her on holidays. We must have goulash!

I miss her every time I walk up the sidewalk at Hilary's and see the rose bush she gave to Tessa on her adoption day, one of the last times she was 'out' with the family.

But her legacy lives on.

In her first born son, my husband, and her other three children.

In her three grandchildren.

In her great-grandchildren.

And in me, her daughter-in-law.

I miss her.