I wanted my earliest memory of my mom to be a heartwarming anecdote of Suzy’s little boy doing something to make her smile with pride, but recall is a funny thing, isn’t it? So here it is… I was two years old, standing at the foot of my crib at our old home in Claremont with my hands on the rails. Mom had momentarily stepped out of the room. Now, babies soil themselves all the time but are not really cognizant of the act or its consequences. At this moment however, I must have just reached that next tier of mental development because for the first time, I was consciously experiencing every step of the process. I was so focused and fascinated by it that I was willing to endure the imminent reaction from my poor mother. This was also the first time I remember understanding causality: Mom instructs me to alert her when it’s potty time. Instead I do the opposite by pooping my diaper and saying nothing. So Mom comes back all exasperated about having to change my diaper once again. How curious…new data stored!

Subsequent years brought many fine, albeit less pungent memories involving Mom that stay with me to this day. Family camping in Mammoth, Easter egg hunting in Borrego desert, watching her stellar performances in community theater, and story time reading to my elementary school classes in 3rd and 4th Grade. I also remember her gift for the performing arts and love for the natural world extending to her educational and entertaining Snake Sense presentations to my class. From backpacking in the Eastern Sierra Nevada to whitewater rafting the Great American and Merced rivers to ice climbing in Lee Vining Canyon (even after recovering from a badly broken wrist), it was a privilege to share many such adventures with her. All of these experiences and more will remind me of what I loved best about my ol’ mum.

In person she was one of the most genuine, generous, welcoming, warm, compassionate, empathetic, and trusting people one could ever know, and a gift for a son who often struggled to love himself. From her I learned that love does not mean a sustained level of intense liking or affection. She showed me that love is the willingness to sacrifice for the wellbeing of another regardless of the moods between. Love takes work, but it is the kind of work she was driven to do. She demonstrated this toward me countless times while I was growing up—perhaps more than I think I deserved. As I grew older and developed my own perspective of the world, we had our differences, often regarding faith. However, I respected her sincerity and true good will. In a world full of religious hypocrisy, she did not just preach about a gospel of love, charity, tolerance, and compassion, she lived every word of her faith and gave selflessly. She embraced and was generous with those who did not think or believe or look as she did. If there is indeed a prosperous afterlife that awaits, she has more than earned her place. 

With that in mind, it would seem an injustice that she would be stricken by one of the most mysterious of illnesses, but as we know, the universe does not play favorites. After her diagnosis with ALS almost three years ago, we all immediately knew that her time would be short. The worst part of it was to see her suffer as it slowly progressed throughout her body, taking her ability to walk, speak, and even hug. In spite of all of this, my dad exemplified himself as her champion, her steadfast caretaker, and her travel partner as they ticked off various locations on her bucket list. What impressed me the most throughout this whole ordeal was how the disease never took away her mind or her character. She was always herself, grateful for what and who she had, as warm and loving as ever. Even when she could no longer speak or leave her wheelchair, her intentions still shone through her smile and text emojis. When the time finally came for her, she was more than ready to go and it happened just as she wished—at home with my dad and sister and I around her, just the four of us together. As we held her hands and stroked her hair, she took her last breath and we said goodbye. I realize that it was a privilege to be there in that moment and have that closure because it is not an opportunity that everyone gets.

The only permanence in the universe is its impermanence. Our bodies and minds are destined to be fleeting. Literally made of stardust, we are the universe made conscious, and to stardust we must return. Our lasting legacy are the impact and memories we leave behind in others. We never stop missing those we have loved and lost, but that is natural and alright because out of that grief inevitably comes the important memories that help shape who we are; moments of sorrow and laughter, fear and security, disappointment and encouragement, wild adventures and hard lessons, failures and successes—even those seemingly bland day-to-day memories that simply remind us of being together. And yes, that includes dealing with two-year olds filling the diapers you just changed a minute ago…Thanks again, Mom. I love you and Godspeed.

Suzy was more than a friend/coworker. She adopted me into her family from day one. We met at REI and our bond became very strong. She shared with me the love of a mother I lost when I was 14. She always checked up on me, corrected me and simply showed me such love that is unmatched. Her last text we shared showed me how much she cares. Despite her circumstances, her text was simply..."what can I pray for you today?". Suzy I Love you, I miss you, but most importantly, Thank You for being such a positive example in my life. You are For ever in my heart. 

Friends pass through our life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.  Suzy was a dear friend for the season I worked at REI, but has remained in my heart for a lifetime.  Suzy brought me along on MAWU adventures from the desert to the mountains with Ellen, Joanne, and Toni, memorable times of laughter and friendship in the outdoors.  And with her big heart, invited me along to share holidays with her family when she heard I was alone.  Her kindness has stayed with me always.  My life was honored to be part of Suzy's extended family.

Suzy was the memory-keeper and baby of our family.  My first memory of her is when we lived in North Hollywood and she was about 2yo. She is standing next to the Christmas tree, naked except for a red sash, and smiling brightly.  I recall Mom laughing as Dad took the picture.  It is also the house where she fell off the dining table bench and broke out a front tooth.  My memory is of scolding Mom (at the stove, stirring something) for making Lyn cry, when we heard a bang and Suzy crying.  Once, Suzy (still about 2yo) took herself for a “walk”.  I’m told that a bus driver found her.  I recall seeing Suzy smiling with pride, walking and holding hands with a crying Mom.

Before her birth, I recall reporting that I had a new sister and that her name was “Suzy Anne” to neighbors, but Suzy corrected my memory with Mom’s story:  that it was my Sunday school teacher who appeared surprised to see a very pregnant Marian come pick me up, after I had announced to the class that I had a new baby sister and her name was “Suzy Anne”.  

She was helpful to a fault.  After we moved to Los Altos, she was going to “help” me make a ballgown for my doll and cut up the fabric.  After some tears from me, mom saved the day, and I still ended up with the gown.  Suzy was proud of “helping” me.

She was always the “sweet” one, who charmed everyone with her smile and demeanor.  But we all have our faults, and I recall getting onto her for bossing me around.  After all, I AM the big sister, but that didn’t matter.  She felt that she knew best.  I recall being so proud of her playing the cello at a high school performance: possibly the start of sharing her gift and love of performing.

I lost touch with her in her early adolescence and know I missed many crossroads and growth events, being on my own chaotic path.  She seemed to readily adapt and flourish and be part of a loving community in La Jolla.  I know she has made and kept dear friends of all ages through the years.  Just think about 44 yrs of marriage and two awesome kids!  That brings me to the love story of Suzy and Randy.  According to “legend”, Randy told his mother after the second date that he had met the woman he wanted to marry.  Suzy thought they were just friends until Randy knocked on her door after another male friend left.  When she answered the door, he told her to hold the door and brought in pieces of equipment (mind you, this 1975ish) and showed her a slide show/video he made of their times together.  He watched her face and by the time the presentation ended, she realized his intentions.  It’s much more elaborate than that, but no less romantic!

We’ve had many great visits with each other in the past and it was easy to play together, as though all those years disappeared: goofing around with “beauty queen” make-up and silly poses, to sitting by their backyard campfire with our children and parents, listening to family stories, and Randy tell elaborate stories to the kids about the adventures of Beaky the Bear.

She was always attentive and nurturing to Mom and Dad, which extended to her community at-large: teaching kids about snakes (thanks Brother Bob and to mom who let him bring them into our childhood home!), weaving numerous sleeping mats for the homeless, and more.  She was proud of and encouraged Matt and Katy’s passions, even if there was some adjusting to do.  

My gratitude is cemented in the recent years by our shared adventures.   in 2017 we camped (pop-up trailer) in the Anza-Borrego desert and hiked in slot canyons: their stomping grounds.  Expert campers, they had everything one could need.  

After her diagnosis, our 10-day WABDUH RV trek across Colorado in late summer of 2019 was a dream trip!  Viewing the passing scenery, Suzy would open her arms and express awe at this vast and beautiful world of ours – like, “what more could we need?”  There were a couple of harrowing experiences off-roading, but that just added to the excitement!

As her ALS progressed, it was my life’s honor to be present with her and to seek and find shared joy and humor, in the midst of their struggles and constant challenges.  She and Randy had well-practiced that way of navigating and adapting.  Randy, her champion, came up with so many ingenious solutions to, what seemed to me, constant and unrelenting obstacles.  Underlying everything was their unparalleled adoration of and devotion to each other.  Massaging her head, hands and feet offered me the gift of physically connecting with her and, hopefully, offering some comfort.  On my last day with them, Randy and I sang (with help from the uke) “Country Roads”, which produced the last smile I saw from her.  Later, after rubbing her hands one more time, I realized it was time for me to go and told her that.  She nodded and accepted the reality.  I became the baby sister and didn’t want to leave.  But, she gave me the gift of letting go, first.

There have many times that I have thought, “oh, Suzy would remember that”, to realize that those bits of family history that she carried, are with her.  As an ornament sent to me last Christmas from brother Bob and sister-in-law LouAnn reads “Loved one may leave this world, but they never leave our hearts”.

I met Suzy 15 years ago when I started working at REI and found her to be one of the kindest souls I ever knew.  There were four of us at work that gravitated to each other very quickly and became "bosom buddies."  Suzy named us “MAWU” for Middle Age Women Unite (although we were so bonded to each other, no one else could have penetrated our little group).  The four of us went on hikes, out to lunch and movie dates and lots of camping trips.  We would laugh until we cried, thus bonding at the heart. 

Suzy was beautiful inside and out and her joy for love and life was boundless.  She continually amazed us with her beautiful voice and so talented in the art of dialects that she would have us rolling over laughing every time she spoke with an Irish Brogue. Hiking was always an adventure with Suzy as she could name any plant or reptile species, sometimes even including their scientific names.  She was such a gift to all who knew and loved her.

We miss her beyond measure.
JoAnn "Joey" Herbert