Equal Billing

I’m irked. Reading all these tributes and posts about the now-sainted Steve Jobs, especially by people who didn’t even know him, annoys me. Maybe because the pain of my own mother’s death from a related cancer is very fresh and went pretty much unnoticed by the masses. There was no “Special Report” break-in on ABC news when my Mom died. Just a tearful call from my sister. I know Steve Jobs was an incredible leader and innovator, but what about the 1500 other people who die every day from cancer? People don’t know or care about them. So, I thought I’d post the eulogy I gave at my Mom’s service, so Mom could at least get some equal billing. She may not have led a huge company or invented any of the technological toys that she loved so much, but I want people to know a little bit about this special woman that I called Mom.

Given September 26, 2011 at the memorial for Donhelena Dunlap Henderson.

Kirsten and I loved our Mom dearly…but we had no idea how much she was loved by others until this year. The outpouring of support through emails, calls and visits. Thank you.

Mom loved so much.

She loved Beaumont.

Thank you Beaumont family for supporting Mom in her final journey. You spent 30+ years together and she treasured the relationships that she had there. Most people want to die at home, but Mom wanted to die at Troy Beaumont. What a testament to how she felt about you all. Specifically, Reverend Rik – thank you for leading us in this celebration today. And Ricki, thank you for being a good friend to our mother when she needed you most. You were there when we couldn’t be. You were there in those final hours. Mom found solace in your company. Thank you.

Mom loved Fall.

This time of year is especially hard. Everything reminds me of Mom – the leaves were changing on the drive from Virginia to here. Apple picking – from as far back as I can remember we went apple picking. Mom liked crisp, tart apples – no mealy, red delicious for her. I’ve carried this tradition to my family.

Mom loved Holidays.

From birthdays to Easter to Christmas, Mom made holidays special.

She never forgot a birthday. Easter Baskets were elaborate and beautiful – no cheapie jelly beans to be found, just the best, high quality chocolate, usually with nuts. At Halloween, she’d carve our pumpkins with a real kitchen knife – they didn’t have those little special jigsaws back then. Kirsten and I would go out trick or treating. We’d come home and spread our take out on the living room floor. Somehow all the peanut M&Ms would disappear (these were Mom’s favorite). Thanksgiving was from scratch — no shortcuts. Stuffing was made with real home roasted chestnuts.

But Christmas was where her heart was. She was a single Mom and we didn’t have a lot, but she never made us feel like we didn’t have everything. Even when Kirsten and I were in our late teens, she would hide the gifts from us until Christmas Day. She’d stay up late on Christmas Eve and wrap everything beautifully. Our stockings were thoughtful and full, always with an adorable stuffed animal. At night she would wear the Christmas frock – a plaid mixture of overalls and a dress that she made. I now own it and will continue to wear proudly on xmas.

Yet New Year’s Eve held special meaning to me. When I lived at home we’d stay up and drink sparkling apple cider. After I moved out, I’d always call Mom on New Year’s Eve. One special New Year’s Eve, I was in a period of transition in my life. Ruby and I came to Michigan and I spent New Year’s Eve Mom’s house. I rang in the new year on Mom’s couch, just she and I. I was completely at ease, knowing things would be different, but not afraid of the future.

Mom loved food.

She loved to buy it, shopping at Papa Joe’s. People think I’m crazy when I tell them I love to grocery shop. Guess I got that from Mom.

She loved to cook too – Beef Wellington, not really appreciate by young palates. And no, she was not perfect…we had our share of bullet burgers as we called them, broiled in the oven – and hard as rocks.

We baked together, chocolate chip cookies with walnuts. Not sure if more dough made into our bellies or onto the baking sheet — salmonella and calories be damned. This is still my ultimate indulgence and I share this love with Alex.

And she luuuved to eat it. She loved going out to eat. Fresh baked anything – pecan rolls, maple croissants. She had a sweet tooth and we picked some of her favorites – chocolate chip cookies, pecan turtles, crème brulee — to have after the service.

Mom loved hair.

She was a “hair Person” – how many people have their hair dresser at their funeral? Mom woke up at 4am every day. The sound of a hairdryer cutting through the morning silence will always be a reminder. Mom taught me the value of a quality hair cut and having to pay for it. She introduced me to Velcro rollers (yes, Mom, I used them today) and using a flat iron to curl hair. And Mom, I forgive you for that horrific bowl cut you allowed me to wear in those early photos. Mom never met a hair or skin product she didn’t like. I think she was in search for the magic product that would make her more beautiful – not realizing how beautiful she already was.

Mom loved animals.

Mom was a sucker for strays. I played on her sympathies and nagged her until she final gave in – kittens, puppies. And I’m being paid back in spades by my own kiddos. I think the animals knew that Mom’s house was a safe place…she had a dog claim her, Scruffy arrived on her porch one day and staying for ten years. The saddest I ever saw mom was the day our great dane Nike died. I hope somewhere up there, they are talking a long walk together.

Mom loved to talk.

She asked probing questions, which made some people uncomfortable. She made people feel like she cared.

Mom loved her home and she loved Rochester.

For 30 years she lived in the same small ranch where Kirsten and I grew up. It was tiny, but it was home.

Mom loved her extended family and friends.

She was loyal and caring. Her Swedish upbringing limited the physical affection, but she showed she cared through her actions. The calls, the cards, the emails, her time.

Matt, as a son-in-law, you get an A+. Your compassion and kindness, your understanding and support of Kirsten during this difficult time. Thank you.

DeWain, thank you for being Mom’s best friend, dining companion, driver, sounding board and occasional whipping boy. She may have had trouble telling you how much you meant to you but she loved you.

Mom’s grandchildren brought her great joy. She wasn’t a stereotypical grandmother – - old, sweet — she more of a teaching, caring grandma. I knew how much she loved Hagemeister and Rubikins as she affectionately called them when we went to Great Wolf Lodge a few years ago and Mom go into the pool and got her hair wet!!

Mom raised girls, so Hagen had a special place in Mom’s heart. She read books on raising boys and reveled in his boy energy. She was proud of the young man he is becoming.

When I told Mom I was planning on naming my daughter Ruby, she said “Ruby, that is a diner waitress name” but a few days later, in the mail I received a music box (Mom loved music boxes) that was a pair of Ruby red slippers playing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”

I do wish Mom had known Alex, Robb and John better. When I met Bob (my dear husband who I just want to take a second to thank for being my rock, for holding down the fort when I made multiple trips out and for helping me cope, allowing me to break down and for even helping me craft a eulogy that wasn’t a rambling stream of consciousness – thank you, I love you) and learned he had three teenagers, I paused and thought, can I do this? And then I thought…I will parent them like my Mom parented me, with respect and by listening, and through consistency. Bob asked me what my one strongest memory was and it wasn’t one single day…it was every day. Knowing that she would be sitting up at the kitchen table when I got home and that I could talk to her. Knowing until the day she died that I could call her and talk about anything.

But mostly Mom loved her girls. Kirsten and me.

She always put us first. Mom barely dated when we were young. When I came into town to visit, she dropped everything. She took time off work, she picked me up at the airport and she always made me feel like her #1 priority.

Mom loved Kirsten deeply. Kirsten was her first born. Mom loved Kirsten unconditionally through her teen angst phase and into adulthood. I see Mom in Kirsten. Her kind eyes. Her beautiful dainty hands (I got Dad’s hands – thanks Dad). Her strength and her thoughtfulness.

And I know, Mom loved me. She made me feel it in so many ways.

She was at every significant event in my life – horrible choir and band concerts, graduations, weddings. She was also the first person we called with news or questions.

Growing up, it was obvious that I was a lot like mom – outgoing, talkative. I prefer to get “made up” before going out of the house. I hear myself saying “you’ll have to look that one up,” “interesting,” and “we’ll see.” (which FYI, girls, really means NO)

But it wasn’t until I got divorced myself that I truly understood my mother. My parents divorced when I was 3 and lived thousands of miles apart. Mom would have to put her babies on a plane and wave good-bye. She sobbed as we walked down the jetway, Kirsten and I mortified with embarrassment. When we returned, she’d light up like a kid on Christmas. I finally understood, as I handed over my baby and had to have faith that she would be okay without me. I finally understood how it must have made Mom feel to hear stories of the fun at Dad’s house and how much I missed Dad. How it felt to spend Christmas with your baby. As I struggled with my feelings of envy, loss, sadness…who did I talk to about it? Mom.

Even before Mom was sick, I always told her how much she meant to me. She knew I loved her and I know she loved me.

And she loved all of you.

I love you Mom.