Loss

I lost my mom, but they lost their grandma.

 I look at this picture and  I see their long, sad faces. I wish I had just given them a hug instead of taking the picture.  Losing a loved one isn't easy when you are a teenager. I lost my cousin, Edward when I was in 9th grade. When I heard of his death; it seemed unreal. I can only imagine that is what my nephews are feeling when I look at this picture.  When Laura and I got back to house from the care center after the mortuary took Mom's body, Skylar went outside and jumped on the tramp a few times. His actions reminded me that life went on. It was comforting to see him on the tramp. Skylar had been waiting in the car most of afternoon while we waited for the mortuary to come and while we also made a few phone calls and preliminary funeral plans. He had been patience and probably had to release some stress. After all, his grandma just died.

As I was sitting in church this past Sunday, I realized I had something in common with these young men. Like them, I never knew my Grandpa Jackson. He died before my parents were married. Skylar, Brennan and Spencer never knew their Grandpa Jackson, my dad. My mom was a widow before either of my nephews parents had been married. As I was growing up, I missed knowing my dad's parents. (Grandma Jackson died shortly after my oldest brother was born.) Maybe the sadness I see on my nephews' faces are of missing another grandparent. And then maybe I can understand their pain. Losing a grandparent is tough.

The Hippie Bus

I notice the Hippie Bus last spring, but it could have been there from the semester before. It was a old small yellow school bus that looked lived in. Turf (from the stadium?) covered the body except for the windows and the hood of the van. There were curtains in the windows. As I walked most days to my spot at the Trax station,  I noticed at times there were things hanging from the front where the head lights would be. Most days it was there always facing south, but that was because it was parked on a one way street (or alley). When Spring semester ended, I thought the Hippie Bus would go away. But after a week it came back, close or in the same spot as before. The last time I saw the Hippie Bus, a young man was driving it toward 500 South. He didn't look like a hippie, but a regular student. Fall semester is well under way and the Hippie Bus is gone. As I wait for the train to come take me away, I look at the spot where it was parked and I miss the Hippie Bus.

My Memories of Mom

My earliest memories are growing up. I remember once Mom asked to help Laura wash the dishes and I didn't want to. I remember slamming a melmack (plastic dinnerware popular in the 70's) plate into a sink full of dishes. The plate received a major chip and had a crack, but it was still useable. Every time I saw that plate, I was reminded of my anger. I am not sure if I learned my lesson to hold my tongue, but I am glad that my Mom silently put me in my place.
I remember her picking me and my siblings up at school sometimes and for Primary every Wednesday. That was just who she was. Looking after her children. I remember going to her genealogy books and being fascinated by those legal size sheets.
Once I was having a problem getting along with one of my friends, it was either junior high or high school. I don't remember what she told me, but I remembered that she listened and that she cared.
When I graduated from the University of Utah, she was determined to attend the ceremonies with Steve and me. She regretted not being able to be there when I got my Associates from Ricks College years before. Steven led me on a final campus tour before I turned my cap and gown in at the bookstore. She trailed us for some of the tour before finding a place to rest.
I remember trips to Colorado and Blackfoot, Idaho to see family. I also remember a trip to Olympia to see Mary's family. Not everyone came, but we had a good time. It was fun to visit Victoria, Canada. We took the ferry there. It was my only time out of the country. We took a few trips to Seattle together, both by plane and car. 
Aunt Gladys, Mom and I took a two week vacation in the Midwest. Our destination was Nauvoo. Aunt Gladys would comment that Mom had a habit of falling asleep in the back seat like their father did during Sacrament Meeting (church service). Mom said she was just along for the ride and grateful to be included. Mom said once during the trip that she figured this would be her last chance to see Nauvoo and some of the other places we visited.
When I flew out on Southwest, September 14th, to see Mom for a possible last time. About an hour before boarding, my sisters called to tell me that Mom had left this mortal life. I felt lonely until I was standing in line to board the plane. I realized she would be making this trip with me. One of my first flights to Seattle was with Mom on Delta, which is the airline she always flew. I was grateful to have a final flight with her and to know that she will continue to watch over me.