Sue Ann was a very kind, caring, and talented individual.  She had a wonderful knack for decorating, evidenced by her attention to the tiniest details on her cakes and gingerbread houses, and she wowed everyone with her many projects.  One of my fondest memories with Sue Ann was vacationing at Rennie Lake in the summer of '82.  It was just the girls - the guys were joining us later in the week.  I had just found out I was pregnant with Sara.  Sue Ann pampered me all week -  preparing healthy meals to satisfy my cravings and ease my morning sickness.  We spent many hours relaxing, chatting, laughing, and enjoying lake fun with you (Tara) and the Haskell family!  Wonderful memories!

Robin 

Tara,
We are so sorry for the loss of your mother.  Sue Ann was a very special lady.  Our thoughts and prayers are with you.

Love,
Phil, Robin, Sara, David, and family, Mark, Adelle, and family, and Alex





 

One of the things I loved about Mom was her ability to speak first and think second. This lead to many laughs over the years. In her later years, some of this was also due to dementia, but she and I were still somehow able to see the humor in it. Over the years, I started posting some of these "classic conversations" with Mom on Facebook and I'm so glad I did, because now I'm able to go back and laugh all over again. Here are a few highlights...

Typical conversation with my mother...
Mom: (makes a statement)
Me: I agree
Mom: You agree with what?
Me: With what you just said.
Mom: What did I say?
Me: sigh...

Another classic...
Nurse: Are you depressed?
Mom: Probably, but I don't really remember.

Trying to teach Mom how to send emails on her new Kindle Fire. She just sent me an email...
SUBJECT:  Hells bells
MESSAGE: This is not easy - yikes!

Mom: I think the worst thing would be dating someone who ate sushi and then wanted to kiss you.
Me: Okay...
Mom: Get away from me with your dead fish mouth, find a bottle of Listerine and come see me in an hour!

A quiet moment at the 2014 Xmas dinner table with Mom...
Me: You look like you're deep in some serious thought.
Mom: Well...I was thinking about Cuba.

While I was helping Mom up from the couch...
Mom: I can see right down your shirt.
Me: Well...you're welcome!
Mom: It wasn't that great!

In 2006, my Xmas gift to Mom was a "Love Jar". The jar included 52 individual strips of paper with things for which I was grateful to Mom. The instruction was to read one of these papers each week over the course of the next year.

As I was going through some of Mom's things to post on this site, I came across the strips of paper, which she had carefully folded, wrapped with rubber bands and saved in a box.

Here are a few highlights that give a good indication of who she was as a mother:

I'm grateful that you let me play with the pots and pans and make huge messes as a baby!

I'm grateful for the birthday party when you filled the living room with balloons 3 feet deep...even though I can't remember it. It must have been awesome!

I'm grateful that you just laughed when other parents would have yelled... like when I ran down the street naked as a toddler or broke into the neighbor's house to play with her make-up.

I'm grateful for all of the "deep" and "philosophical" conversations we had when I was growing up.

I'm grateful for all of our late night, giggle-fest slumber parties.

I'm grateful for all of the times you spoke first and thought second...and for all of the laughter it provided us throughout the years.

I'm grateful that you taught me to "rock the boat"!

I'm grateful you taught me to believe that I could become anything I wanted to be.

Thank you, Mom!! I will always cherish these memories!

This post originally appeared on Sue Ann's Caring Bridge site and was titled "Slipping away", but I wanted to include it here as well as it is such a cherished memory from her last days.

I feel like my mother is slipping away from me. Based on some of the things she said and did today, I wonder if she feels that way, too.

It's so hard to be away from her, because I don't know how much longer we have together, and my presence seems to comfort her. If I could, I'd be there every moment of the day. It was very special (and exhausting) to be with her from Monday through Wednesday this week. I have a whole new respect for what the caregivers do. I definitely couldn't do it for someone I loved any less. I could tell that she really appreciated having me there. It also allowed me to get a better understanding of what was going on with her, and how we might be able to help make her more comfortable. As tired as I was, it was very hard to leave her yesterday when the caregiver came to relieve me.

When I was at work this morning, she called me four times. I picked up on her second call, but somehow she'd put the phone down without hanging up and she couldn't hear me. When we finally did connected on her fourth call, she seemed agitated and concerned, but couldn't articulate what was wrong or how I could help her. When she's like this, I just want to go to her. But, to be honest, it's also very hard to be with her...because it makes me so sad. My 2015 annual theme is really supporting me right now...I am abiding with compassion with/for her, but also with/for myself and my own feelings. Sigh...

I visited her for a while today. Unlike earlier in the day, at least she seemed calm and comfortable, but she had barely any energy/life force to talk and would close her eyes every few minutes. When she did talk to me, it often didn't make much sense.    Even so, she still recognizes me, and we tell each other we love each other a lot. We kiss each other on the cheeks, and I rub her back, leg or arm to try to comfort her. Also, even when what she says doesn't make any sense, her love and sweet sense of humor still somehow come through.     When I arrived this afternoon, her caregiver had taken her out in her wheelchair for a walk on the path near the lake. I took over, and sent the caregiver inside. Mom and I sat on a bench looking at the lake. While we were sitting there, she was looking toward the lake and said, "I think we should name it." I asked her if she meant the lake, but she didn't respond, so I asked, "What do you think we should name it?" She replied, "Our bridge." I smiled and looked back out at the lake...I didn't see a bridge, but I guess that doesn't matter. Then she said, "I wonder how long it's been there." All I could say (honestly) was, "I don't know..."

I reflected for a moment, and thought about how we have crossed many bridges together over the years. I guess we have one more bridge left to cross together. Maybe on some level she was thinking the same thing, or maybe it was just a coincidence, because she said, "We've been through a lot together, haven't we?" I told her, "We sure have." and kissed her on the cheek. A little later, she said, "It's been quite an adventure."

One of Sue Ann's "legacies" will be all of the many things she made.

She was more than just a crafter, seamstress and baker...she was an artist. She decorated countless cakes and made many halloween costumes over the years. She was also famous for her home decor and cookies.

Photos of many of the cakes and costumes she made are in the gallery as well.

Some of you may have noticed that, in my Caring Bridge post about Sue Ann's death, I used the phrase "gone missing". I thought I'd explain the back story...

"Gone missing" was an inside joke and a euphamism for "died" that Mom and I used regularly. (She even used it in her letter to me about her last wishes.)

The phrase comes from her childhood when, at some point, she noticed a trend on the news. Whenever the news announcer would describe someone as having "gone missing", they never returned. As children are so literal, little Sue Ann just assumed that "gone missing" was another way of saying that the person had died.

I once told her that I didn't like the phrase "passed away", so she offered "gone missing" as an alternative...and it stuck!

This was one of our many jokes about the tough stuff she and I were dealing with in her later years. I think it was one of the things that kept her alive and me sane! :)

~Tara