8/20/24 a tough day. I came home from work to find Doug sobbing on the back porch, and then I heard the news that we had lost you.
You had been sick with dementia for the past year or two, with frequent falls and so little quality of life. The independent living apartment you called home was so cute, but eventually you had to move to the memory unit. I’m grateful you’re at peace now, but I already miss you.
I keep thinking back to when I first met you, after I met your son—the most favorite man in my life, right alongside my dad. You and I hit it off right away. You gave me your pearls to wear on our wedding day, and I wore them with so much pride.
You and Dad came to visit every so often, and we always found something fun to do: bowling, dinners out, and cooking together. I still smile thinking about one dinner when you had a little shot of something sweet. We even went boating together a time or two, and I loved the moments we spent on the dock at our Bayshore home watching dolphins.
Then the girls came along, and life became a whole different kind of adventure. We visited you, you visited us, and the girls got to make such happy memories with you: Easter egg hunts, painting eggs, winter visits, and trips to the pumpkin patch. Kraynck’s the Christmas store and wonderland, along with the original Quaker Steak and Lube for wings, or chilli dogs from Jules Tavern were some of our favorite memories.
I wish our phone calls back and forth had been more frequent. I regret that they weren’t. But the time we did have together was the very best. I especially loved when Doug would call you for the recipes to his favorite Italian dishes. He misses those calls so much, and so do I.
We drove to Pennsylvania on August 14 and arrived the next day, on the 15th. Your funeral was beautiful, with lots of tears, but it was also wonderful to see familiar faces and be together with family. Your friends and family made sure we had abundant food for the few days we were there, and we loved spending time talking and sharing fun memories of you.
Life won’t be the same without you, Mom. You’ll always be loved and remembered—not just by Doug, the girls, and me, but by everyone who loved and adored you.
We’ll keep making those Italian dishes from the handwritten recipe box you left behind, and we’ll think of you every time. 🤍
