Remembering my Mom: She Also Loved Extra Cheese On Her Pizza

Mom with her mom and dad at her high school graduation.

It’s hard to explain exactly what 13 years feels like. You know how it is getting older: the days blur into weeks, and then into months, and finally into years. It feels so cliche to say, “time goes by so fast.” And yet it does, and it is. If someone had told me two, five or even 15 years ago that I would be parentless by the age of 43, I probably would have replied with a certain amount of hubris, saying, “no way!” Even though I’ve always known life to be inherently unpredictable (as I’ve been thrown quite a few curve balls in my day) predicting the unimaginable is never something you can really ever prepare for. So you don’t.

I’ve said to a few friends and family over the course of the last few months, that after my dad passed away, I felt an orphan-ness that I didn’t expect. Even though I have built my own independent life, and my parents were no longer “taking care of me,” the relationship we had, and their presence in my life, was a constant source of comfort and support. I admit, sometimes I took it too much for granted.

Today marks the 13th anniversary of my mother’s death. Does that feel like a long time? I don’t know. I don’t ache for something I will never have again. She is gone. I’ve continued to build a life I think (I hope) she would be proud of. I do miss her a lot though. I wonder how she’d be enjoying her retirement these days. If maybe I could have convinced her to take that trip to Australia she always talked about. Or maybe she would have brought another four-legged family member into her home.

I never shared my mom’s eulogy all those years ago. And today seems fitting. Happy Birthday mom. (Yes, today is her birthday, too) I love you. I miss you. And I’m still watching our Fraiser re-runs.

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I want to start off today by saying thank you all for coming. It is comforting to be surrounded by so many people who knew and loved mom throughout the many phases of her life. I like to think she is still here with us in spirit, and she is smiling.

The woman who we are here to remember today was Nancy Ann Hagen Lindstrom. But to me, she was mom. She was an exceptional mother in every sense of the word. Her love for Leigh and I was absolutely unconditional. Only as I become older myself, tested by life’s challenges, do I really begin to appreciate the strength of my mother’s spirit.

When I sat down and thought about how I wanted to organize my thoughts for today, what I wanted to begin by sharing was how my mom was always there for me. No matter when, where, or what I needed, whether it was emotional, physical, financial, spiritual, or even intellectual guidance or support, mom was there as only a mother can be. She was a foundation of my life that will be irreplaceable.

When I was having surgeries as a child, she never left my bedside. When I was scared and needed holding to have stitches removed, she found a way to make it hurt less. When I hated going to physical therapy she would console me with a trip to the A&W drive thru. When I had a bad day at school, she would tuck me in at night and tell me everything would be better in the morning.

When I wanted to move to Minnesota after college she drove me and my dog Ernie out there, and when I wanted to come home three years later, she welcomed me back with open arms. When I needed advice living near or far, she was always just a phone call away.

This is just a blink of an eye in the lifetime of moments my mom was there for me. Throughout my life’s traumas and tragedies, celebrations and milestones, I knew she would be by side, and she always was.

Who was mom? She was an only child so her cousins were her siblings. Grandma Harriet said could be a handful at times. She learned to play the piano and music stayed with her throughout her life. She was homecoming queen, cheerleader, and a sorority sister. She moved away from home to spread her wings at age 21, then returned home to marry her high school sweetheart. A daddy’s girl, she mourned the loss of her father at age 26. She married my father and became a military wife who had to learn to live apart from her husband for months at a time. She began motherhood at 28. She went back to teach school in 1987, starting with substitute teaching, then kindergarten and returning to the music classroom just three years ago.

Mom loved laughing. And her laughter could be contagious. She also had a wicked sense of humor. Many times I know she said what everyone else in a room would be thinking, but wouldn’t say themselves. She also loved telling a good story. Her instinct for narration sometimes would get a tad longwinded, but I always knew better than to try to rush her along. Like her life, the story was in the details.

I know my ability to cope and overcome hardships in my own life came from her. Even at the end she never felt sorry for herself for very long. Moments of sadness and frustration were quickly replaced when she would think of those who are suffering in this world worse than she.

I think it is a testament of her compassion. We had always had a problem with spiders in our house. When I was scared of spiders as a child, mom would say “Just think of them as Charlotte from the book Charlotte’s Web.” She always had a love and a passion for animals. In recent years she has been a generous donator to the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary, the Humane Society and the World Wildlife Federation.

So what made mom happy? The simpler things in life actually. A quiet afternoon with each of her puppies by her side. A really good movie on Lifetime that she hadn’t seen yet. A hamburger and mushroom pizza with extra cheese and extra thin crust. Catalogue shopping. Long weekend vacations. Fudgecicles. Watching reruns of Seinfeld and Frasier late into the night.

And when mom was happy I was happy. We had so much fun just being together, whether in the same room, or across the miles on the phone. We’d share stories from our day or week, BS about current events or news headlines, advise each other when we needed feedback, or just be a sounding board to vent when we didn’t want any feedback at all. I’m going to miss those times the most.

I think it is true that everyone feels that their mom is the best mom ever, and I think that is the way it should be. But when I remember who my mom was, Nancy Ann Hagen Lindstrom, not only do I feel blessed and proud that I had such a great mom, but that she was also an exceptional human being who will be missed by those who knew and loved her.