Mother’s Day and Legacies

I wasn’t going to write about Mother’s Day this year, because some Mother’s Days are harder for me than others. And no, I don’t exactly know why.

Grief, even decades later, is still some flavor of grief. Grief ebbs and flows. However, it’s also possible to smile into the face of grief – and that’s where legacies, plural, enter the picture.

Legacies

Everyone has a legacy. Not just one legacy, but a separate legacy in the mind of everyone who knows, or knew, them. We tend to think about legacies in the context of someone who has passed, but in reality, legacies are living, dynamic definitions, and they aren’t just in the past.

The most common time to think about legacies is when we need to write an obituary or prepare for the funeral of someone we love. And it’s also the most difficult time.

I can give you two examples of exactly what I DON’T want for my legacy.

1. I attended a funeral where the best the family could come up with was that the deceased had graduated from high school and had two children. That was literally it. I knew this person well, and let’s just say he struggled. He also had an unspoken legacy that needed to remain unspoken in that setting. Still, I could have contributed something that sounded like I at least tried.
2. An obituary written by the husband of a friend proclaimed that her legacy was that she had once colored the mashed potatoes green for St. Patrick’s Day. That saddened me immensely, because while that may have been true, and funny, I could have provided several examples her kindness and charity work. How she had founded and then became president of a local nonprofit – and how long-suffering and brave she had been in the face of adversity.

Was that REALLY all there was to say about either of those people? Couldn’t someone have come up with something that was both true and more profound? Was there absolutely nothing else about my friend, other than green potatoes, that could be said “in polite company”?

What would these people have said about their own legacy? How would they want to be remembered?

If you had asked them, without pondering or overthinking, to quickly list the three most important things about themselves, their life and their own legacy – what would they have said?

I absolutely guarantee you that it would NOT have been about green potatoes – although if you added another question about something funny, humorous, or that would make people smile – green potatoes might have been included.

A green potatoes equivalent is just not “the thing” I want to be remembered for.

Mom’s Legacy

Mother’s Day caused me to think about my mother’s legacy.

I participated in writing Mom’s obituary (which was finally correct with the THIRD printing) and provided the minister with fodder for Mom’s funeral service, but both of those things are focused on a specific audience. That’s a nice way of saying the information wasn’t “all-inclusive.”

Not to mention, the cumulative memory of others may not be either complete or entirely accurate. Everyone remembers a person within the context of how they knew them. Your family and colleagues will remember your legacy differently.

Obituaries are very limited and generally fit a specific pattern, with little opportunity for customization. Fit your life, as others remember it, into a paragraph. Here’s your template.

Today, many people have no obituary or a funeral as we used to know them.

What is said in obituaries or at funeral services may not be the way the person would have expressed their own legacy, if they had that opportunity.

Get out a piece of paper.

Whether your mother, or the person or people who function in that capacity in your life are living or not, write down the first three things that come to mind when you think of them. No editing. You can add or edit later – right now, just get your first thoughts onto paper.

If you can’t narrow it to just three, that’s fine. Just start the list without thinking – write what pops into your mind.

Mom’s Legacy

Here’s my non-obituary, non-funeral version of Mom’s legacy based on the exercise above.

• Mom survived the Great Depression as a child in the 1930s by cleaning chickens in Silver Lake, Indiana for a nickel each. She hated cleaning chickens for the rest of her life. Her father lost his hardware store. Her mother’s income from working for the Welfare Department, plus the money earned by raising chickens, growing berries, and a small truck patch is what saved the family.

• Mom survived rheumatic fever as a child, which left her with a lifelong heart murmur. She learned resiliency the hard way, and experienced crushing heartbreak a few years later when her fiancé was killed in WWII.

• Mom became a successful tap and ballet dancer, in spite of growing up in a strict, extremely conservative region of northern Indiana. Her father’s family was Brethren. Mom overcame discrimination and pushback at every turn, studying with the world-renowned Philadelphia Ballet Company and then dancing professionally in Chicago with the Dorothy Hild Company during and after WWII.

• My entry into the world ended that career, enabling Mother to finally become a bookkeeper, something she had always wanted to do.

• Mom was an accidental pioneer in women’s equality and rights, even though she never meant to be. Abandoned by undeserving men for other women or a liquor bottle, she persevered as a single mother and raised two children in a day and age when women were not afforded equal pay for equal work, many jobs or careers simply weren’t available to women, and a woman couldn’t even get a credit card or buy a car or home in her own name. Mom did it anyway, being the first single woman in Kokomo, Indiana to purchase a home with a mortgage in her own name.

• Mom moved to the farm a dozen years later when she married my wonderful step-father. She began her third career when the company she had worked for as a bookkeeper for years shut its doors.

• Mom became an Avon Lady for the next quarter century, more as her own personal mission to check on her neighbors than to earn money. She spent far more than she ever made – although she denied that till her dying day – but I saw the books after her death. She would take food to people, listen to their problems, check on anyone who was sick, take people to town to do errands or for appointments, deliver “sermons on tape” to shut-ins, and so forth. Every single day for more than a quarter century, she quietly solved every problem that she could, until she had to retire at 82 due to her own health issues. The photo, above, was taken by one of her favorite customers on her last “Avon” day.

I can’t even begin to count how many humans and animals Mom rescued or saved in one way or another as “just an Avon Lady.” Unfortunately, from time to time, people took advantage of her big heart and generosity.

Mom would never, in a hundred years, have said any of these things about herself. She was far too humble, and even in later years, having been a dancer carried a certain stigma in rural Indiana – land of the Baptist Church, in which she was a Deacon.

I don’t know what Mom’s personal legacy list about herself would have been. Of course, she loved her family. She even saved Dad’s life – not once – but twice.

I know she was proud of her Avon awards, and she received several. It wasn’t until years later that I realized how much of what she purchased was given away to people who couldn’t afford it. Mom would tell them it was “extra” or “overstock” or “on sale” for a pittance. She also preserved their dignity by approaching her missionary work that way – and no one ever knew until after she was gone.

The example she set by her silent actions, not her words, was absolutely incredible.

Mom received the Spriit of Avon Award in 1989 and several other years. But I only have these few photos.

The “Spirit of Avon” award, specifically the Spirit of Albee award, is given to Avon representatives who embody the entrepreneurial spirit of Mrs. P.F.E. Albee, the first Avon Lady. This award recognizes individuals who strive to build better lives for themselves and others.

Mom tended to downplay her own achievements.

She loved the Albee awards, what they meant and why they were awarded.

This is the 1992 Albee. Several more of hers sit on my shelf.

I’m still so proud of Mom for so many reasons. Yet, I’m sitting here crying because I couldn’t, or didn’t, go with her to the banquet(s) to receive those awards. Yes, I lived in a different state and was busy with my family and career, but now I greatly regret that choice. Of course, she understood. She didn’t even ask because she wouldn’t have wanted to impose. On the other hand, I know full well she would have been utterly thrilled if I had asked to go with her.

I didn’t, and I get to live with that now.

Smile Memories

There are several “Mom memories” that make me smile.

• Everyone received Avon products for Christmas, birthday, and any other “gift event.” Even the Easter Bunny was hooked up with the Avon Lady. We enjoyed those thoughtful gifts, and Mom knew everyone’s favorites – bath oil, bubble bath, makeup and lip balm. I remember Mom walking around my car with a rag and a bottle of Skin-So-Soft, scrubbing the bugs off my windshield and tar off my fenders.

Swear to God – I still have a bottle of Skin-So-Soft and half a bottle of bubble bath from Mom. I tried to help boost her sales, especially in the last year or so when she knew she was going to have to retire and she wanted to leave on a high note.

Mom was widely loved in the community, and we had to reserve an entire restaurant for her retirement party.

She was so surprised and honored that so many people came and many brought gifts for her.

• Avon lip balm was always in the toe of every Christmas stocking (that she crocheted for every family member) and taped to each package. When Mom died, after the funeral, as we were saying our final goodbyes, my sister-in-law and I decided we were going to be sure Mom had a lip balm with her in the hereafter – so I dug one out of my purse and we tucked it in her hand, in the casket. On the way to the cemetery, the hearse had to brake unexpectedly, and I vividly remember thinking, “I hope the lip gloss didn’t fall out of Mom’s hand.”
• Mom also loved her “pretty shoes,” as she called them, but the funeral director couldn’t get her favorite pair of high heels on her feet. We knew she absolutely wouldn’t want to leave them behind – so they were tucked in the bottom of her casket too.

• When I was a teenager, I got caught up in an altercation after a football game at a rival school. Not knowing what else to do, I headed for the police station where I knew I’d be safe and could call Mom to pick me up. When I told Mom I was at the police station, she was rattled and hung up before I had a chance to explain, jumped in the car, and hurried right down to the station. She ran into the lobby where I was waiting with a friend, saw that we were alright, and suddenly realized that she had put her hair up in those pink foam rollers – and there was a handsome officer on duty who was trying not to laugh. Mom turned beet red. She was mad at us, not for calling her – that was the absolute right thing to do – but because she came to the police station with her hair in rollers, and without a scarf. Go figure:)
• We always feasted on corn on the cob in the summer. Mom had a partial set of false teeth. We had company over for Sunday dinner, and Mom took a bite of corn on the cob, only to realize her top teeth were embedded in the cob. The teeth had broken off from the rest of the dentures. The look on Mom’s face was priceless. She didn’t exactly know what to do – and the rest of us couldn’t help but laugh. We tried to stifle our laughter though, which made the entire episode funnier and funnier until everyone, including Mom, was laughing so hard we were crying. “Mom, you have teeth in your corn. Most of us just get corn in our teeth!”
• Some years later, a grandchild had made their way to the state track finals and was “up at the university” for the events. Mom was proud as punch, and wild horses couldn’t have kept her away. She was leaning over the railing waving and cheering the grandchild on as they circled the inside track – only for those pesky false teeth to fall out of her mouth – straight down onto the track. She had a horrified look on her face as she tried to tell me, “my teef” and pointed at the track below. Thankfully, that race was over, and no one had stepped on them. I had to make my way down, out of the bleachers, and find someone to explain why I needed to go onto the track – all quickly – before the next event. The grandchild saw me, was very confused, looked quite irritated, was assuredly embarrassed, and came over to see what I was doing. Fortunately, the grandchild, as a contestant, had permission to be on the track. They found and recovered Mom’s “teef,” ran them over to us, waving them over their head in a victory lap of sorts. We laughed about this forever – just not at the time.

• At a family celebration some years later at an event center, my daughter, Mom and I were hamming it up outside and took this photo. I think we were comparing ourselves to Mom’s dancing photos from decades earlier and trying not to fall over. We were having so much fun together.

• At my wedding, I have no idea what Mom and I were laughing at, but we were. What a joyful day, just a couple years before she passed.

That was after she walked me down the aisle. Well, truth be told, I walked her up the aisle to her seat in order to steady her – but that’s not the story we told.

What I remember best are the times with smiles and laughter.

It’s those smiles and laughter that soothe the grief of her passing. The grief of Mother’s Day without her. We buried Mom 19 years ago this week, and I cleaned out her apartment on Mother’s Day.

Yep, I need those smiles and to remember Mom’s wonderful legacy.

Your Legacy

Now, it’s your turn.

What is your legacy?

What three things, off the top of your head, have you done that made the biggest difference, or maybe were the most important to you?

What do you want your legacy to be? Accomplishments? Achievements? Family? Service work? Hobbies? Career? Personality traits?

How do you want your life to be remembered?

Does that align with the legacy that those you care about would pen for you?

Is there something you need to do?

Is some aspiration unfulfilled? Can you do something about that?

Are there amends that you’d like to make? If so, do them now, because amends don’t make themselves.

Don’t wait. Do something a little crazy with someone you love.

You truly never know when you’re going to take that last photo, or smile that last smile, together.

Like mother, like daughter – my beautiful daughter has my mother’s beautiful smile.

Take that trip, wear the funky ill-fitting hats, laugh at yourselves out loud, make those memories, and watch that sunset while you can.

Say “I love you,” and create your legacy.