How We Mourn

The past two weeks have been difficult in many ways that I did not anticipate.  As my family dealt with the passing of my mother, the complexities of human relationships and emotions were played out in so many variations that it was exhausting.

I have a large family.  Counting step, half and adopted siblings, there are 13 of us, and each of the 13 had a unique relationship with my mom.  Unique and vastly different.  Those differences left each of us in a different pattern of mourning as we dealt with Mom's passing.

As we spent time together, remembering Mom and preparing for the memorial service, I learned a lot about how crucial it is to honor the differences in the way each person choses to mourn.  Actually, not just to honor, but to respect and support those differences.  

Mourning is a very personal thing, and no one can tell you how you are supposed to feel.  No one should try.  

I'm so grateful for our differences.  For the beautiful tapestry of personalities, talents and experiences that make up my crazy family.   And the memories...oh, the memories.  Good, bad and hilarious.  It's the memories that bring us a point of commonality.  A place that we can all meet to mourn together in our different ways.  Yup.  I'm grateful for the memories.

Speaking of memories, I was elected to write the Life Sketch for Mom's memorial service.  It was a challenge I didn't expect, and finding the right words to honor Mom's memory in a way that accurately represented all of us was more difficult than I would have imagined, but I think, after a bit of help from some of my sisters, we got it right.

Here's the life sketch of my mom, Barbara Rose Christley:  

Barbara Rose Stone was born in Boise, Idaho on April 8, 1951 to Dorothy and Ernest Stone.

 

Baby Barbara was a sweet, charming, well behaved little angel, always dressed to the nines in outfits sewn by her mother or sent from adoring family members back in England.  She was a beautiful little doll, and the apple of her daddy’s eye.  He would often push her pram to work with him, just to show her off.

She loved to dance, and spent hours playing in the sandbox her daddy made for her.

She had a beautiful singing voice, and as a teenager she enjoyed singing with the Borah Lions Show Choir and with friends whenever she had the chance.

It was in High School that she met Randy, and was introduced to the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  She was drawn to the closeness that she witnessed in the Nelson family, and the gospel teaching of eternal families.

Randy baptized her into the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, and they were married in May, 1971. The next 13 years brought 5 kids and a move to Denver.  

Mom and Randy split up in 1984 and she moved on to the next chapter in her life.

She met Warren at a church Singles Activity.  He rode up like a Knight in Shining Armor, but instead of riding a horse, he arrived in a Porsche…complete with 5 kids packed inside.

It was the definition of love at first sight, followed by a whirlwind romance. They were married in January, 1985.  They added to their brood of 10 kids by having one more little girl in 1987, creating their own version of “Yours, Mine, and Ours”.  

Parenting 11 kids was always an adventure.  Groceries had to be purchased in bulk, and laundry was measured by the ton.  There was always a game, rehearsal, concert or other activity going on, and our giant, 15 passenger conversion van got a lot of use.  

Meal time was an adventure all its own.  Meatloaf, spaghetti, beef stew and a variety of casseroles were among the regular menu items, and Mom taught us that anything could be made better by adding cream of mushroom soup and “just a little bit” of Accent salt.  

Despite the challenge of getting 13 people in a room and around a table, we always had dinner together as a family. Our dining room table resembled a conference room table, and was surrounded by a combination of barstools, benches and chairs, but we all fit, and we were all expected to behave with proper English manners.  Manners were important to Mom, a fact that nearly every one of us rebelled against at one point or another, mostly just to drive her crazy.

Keeping the kitchen stocked was a constant challenge, and everything from milk and Little Debbie snack cakes, to giant blocks of cheese seemed to disappear without anyone admitting to eating them.

Later, as some of the older kids began to leave home, Mom and Dad took in foster children, and adopted two more girls, bringing our grand total to 13 kids.

We did a lot of moving around…to Florida, back to Colorado, to Pittsburgh and eventually to Utah.

With every move and every new home, Mom worked tirelessly to make our home beautiful, finding creative and unique ways to decorate and accent things, making the most of limited resources.  There was nothing she couldn’t do with a little bit of fabric, paint and a hot glue gun.  Each of our rooms was decorated with thought and care – a special place of our own, made perfect with Mom’s creativity and insight.

(If only we’d kept them clean once they were decorated!)

Her decorative powers weren’t limited to within our home.  She could also make a church gymnasium look like a fairy tale, much to the delight of many brides.  She would arrange flowers into beautiful bouquets and bake and decorate amazing wedding cakes.  

Mom loved to make things beautiful.

She was also handy with a sewing machine.  Mostly self-taught, there was almost nothing Mom wouldn’t attempt to sew if there was a need.  She would spend tireless hours, often sewing through the night, perfecting costumes, bed spreads, prom dresses, bridesmaids’ dresses and anything else we wanted or needed.

Mom’s favorite holiday was Christmas.  She loved the trees and the lights, the little Victorian Villages, the music and the traditions.  She loved the bows and the boxes, and she loved giving gifts.  Her sewing machine always got a workout around the holidays.  She would sew for days and nights, putting the finishing touches on dolls, scarfs, blankets, teddy bears and other gifts so that everyone had the perfect gift to open on Christmas morning.

Christmas Eve was always a grand celebration in our house.  A feast of appetizers including summer sausage, meats and cheeses, shrimp, sweet and sour meatballs, lil’ smokies, Nan’s shortbread cookies, minced meat tarts, fudge, rolls, every type of cracker - more food than could possibly be consumed in one night - was festively laid out on a perfectly decorated table.  Anyone and everyone were invited to join the party, particularly those who didn’t have friends and family to celebrate with.  It was a night to eat, laugh, sing and enjoy the love and magic of the holiday.  

Mom refused to give up.  She got up and got dressed every day.  Not in comfy lounging clothes or pajamas, but in outfits carefully selected and matched.  Even her hot pink lipstick was a must.

She was up and about as much as she could be, especially when it came to Christmas activities - supervising the hanging of Christmas lights, enjoying the Trail of Lights at Chatfield with the grandchildren, even going shopping at the mall on Black Friday.

There was something about the magic of Christmas that made Mom shine.  Yes, Mom loved Christmas.

Maybe that’s why she tried so hard to hold on at the end, hoping for just one more magical Christmas before she said goodbye.

Her weak and frail body couldn’t hold on quite that long, and she was called home to her Savior on December 5, 2013.  This year, she gets to celebrate with the angels.

Merry Christmas, Mom.  We love you.