Mom's Legacy

“How ya doing, mom?” I asked when I peeked in to check on mom on the morning of June 2^nd, 2010.

She smiled feebly, but she didn't look very good.

“Oh, I'm OK,” she told me.

“Are you in pain?” I asked.

“Not too much,” she said.

“Do you feel like getting up yet?”

“No, I think I'll stay in bed for a little while longer,” she told me.

I sat down in the chair next to mom's bed and picked up her hand. “Would you like me to do anything for you?” I asked.

“No, you go do your errands or whatever you need to do this morning. I'll be fine. I'll wait until you get home before I get up.”

“Are you sure, mom?” I asked, worried about leaving her.

“Yes. Run on and do whatever you need to do.”

“Krissi will be here,” I told her, glad that school was over for the summer. “If you need anything, just call her, OK. She can call me on the cell phone if I need to come back sooner.”

“That's fine,” mother assured me again.

“How's Krissi doing, being here all alone?” she asked. “Is she missing Kami?”

I laughed, then said, “Actually, I think she's having fun being an only child right now. I talked to Kami this morning, too. She's having a blast down in the Valley with Alyssa and the kids, but she told me to tell you she misses you.”

Kami, my fifteen year old daughter, had been mom's special companion for the past year, watching old movies and TV shows with her every evening until it was time to go to bed. Krissi and I had tried to keep mom company while Kami spent the first week of summer at her big sister's house, but I knew mom missed her, and Kami missed grandma.

“I'm glad she's having fun,” mom smiled. “Sisters are the best. I used to love going to visit Aunt Eloise, my oldest sister, after she got married and moved to California. It was always so much fun.”

Mom was silent for awhile, and I wondered if she was thinking about Aunt Eloise, who had passed away the previous summer, and Grandma Johnson, and Grandpa, and the rest of her family.

“It will be cool when you get to see all your family again, won't it?” I ventured, not quite knowing how to put in words what I was thinking. I didn't want mom to think I was anticipating her dying, yet at the same time, we all were.

“I bet you can't wait to see dad, either,” I finally said, knowing that was probably foremost on mom's mind.

“I can't,” she admitted, then her face fell a little and she said, “but I'm almost ashamed to see Grandma Johnson and Mormor again. I haven't lived up to their legacy very well, have I?”

“What?' I exclaimed. “How can you say that? They must be so proud of you!”

“No,” mom sighed. “They were such amazing women, and I haven't done anything like them. I keep thinking if I was at least in my 80's it wouldn't be so bad to be old and sick, but I'm only 79!”

I did understood what mom was talking about. Both her mother, my Grandma Johnson, and her grandmother (Mormor means grandmother in Swedish) my great-grandma Johnson, had been incredible women, but it made me sad that mom felt she wasn't as good as them.

I thought about this all morning as I dug out at my pond, and later when I came home and took a shower. My sister, Linda, came over to visit mom while I was cleaning up. She was with mom when she had another attack.

“Gale,” Linda gasped over the phone when I answered her call as I was blow drying my hair. “Mom has passed out again, and I can't get her up off the floor!” (Aren't cell phones amazing? Linda was able to call me on her cell phone rather than leaving mom and running through the house to find me in the back bedroom.)

I ran to mom's room, and together we got her back up and into bed, then Linda called Alan, her husband, the doctor, to come help. It took a long time for mom to come out of it this time.

“You came as close to dying as you can get,” Alan told mom when she was finally cognizant and resting in her bed.

By afternoon, mom was feeling better, but Linda and I stayed with her, sitting on either side of the bed while we visited, talking pretty frankly about her passing on.

“I want you girls to divide up my jewelry among yourselves,” mother told us. “I know there's not much there of value, but make sure you all get something you want, and let the granddaughters each choose a piece, too.”

“Then there is a coin jar in my bathroom where I have been saving quarters. I want you to divide those up among the great grandchildren.”

“OK, mom,” Linda said, smiling at me.

“And also divide the Kinder-egg toys I have been saving with each of the grandchildren,” mom went on. “They are in a bag in my closet.” Mom had discovered Kinder-eggs in Germany when she and dad were there serving a mission for our church. They delighted her, and the grandchildren, when she sent them home for Christmas. Ever since, mom had collected the little toys that came inside the chocolate covered eggs.

“You know, mom,” I decided to change the subject after a few minutes. “I've been thinking about what you said this morning. We have always known what a courageous woman Mormor was, joining the church in Sweden all by herself, loosing the respect and friendship of her neighbors and friends, and even of Grandpa for so many years before they realized she was still the same wonderful person as before, and then having her little foster daughters taken from her because she wouldn't deny the Gospel. It also must have been really hard for her to leave Sweden and move to America when she was an old woman, but she did it anyway, so she could be sealed in the Temple to grandpa and her family for eternity. We have also always talked about how brave Grandma Johnson was, being a widow for 39 years, taking care of Grandpa when he went blind, working and providing for herself, and everything she did throughout her life, even living to be a hundred. They left a very tough legacy for the rest of us to follow. But mom, this last year-and-a-half, while you have been without dad and so terribly sick, you have been proving, mostly to yourself because the rest of us already know it, that you are also brave and strong and a true Johnson. When you get to the other side of the veil, I just know that Grandma Johnson and Mormor are both going to tell you how proud they are of you! You can hold your head up high in their presence, mom. You have earned your place by their side.”

I don't know if what I said helped mom or not, but it sure made me realize how proud I was of her, and what an amazing heritage I possessed.

That night, Krissi and I finished watching the end of “Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix,” which we'd begun watching the night before with mom. She's the one who got us started reading the Harry Potter books way back when they first came out, and they had remained our favorites over the years.

When the movie ended I helped mom get ready for bed, then tucked her in. I felt kind of silly, to tell you the truth, like I was trying to be the mother and she was my little girl, but I couldn't help myself leaning over and kissing her frail old cheek after I pulled the covers up around her chin.

“I love you, mother,” I whispered, and she smiled tiredly, but didn't open her eyes.

Oh, how proud I was to be the daughter of Eleanor Russell! And, oh! How much I loved my mother!