And then there were three

Today I'm grateful for this beautiful feedback from Suzie Housley, a 30-year reviewer at Midwest Book Review. How did Birdie & Mipps land with you?

So I'm back on the family farm this week, when I notice this:

And it gave me pause as I reflect on the loved ones we've lost lately.

In August, John's mom died, leaving him, me and Nancy behind.

Then, just last Sunday, my mom died, leaving Paul, Debra and me behind.

And it currently feels like these lone stalks of corn that are still standing.

Not really sure where I'm going with this, except that it's a deep sadness to lose our moms, yet we are grateful to not be alone, held up by our sibling squads, connected by the grief our hurting hearts hold.

Sounds corny, I know, but let's talk about the power of three.

When John's mom Ruby fell and broke her hip, it was John, Nancy and I who had the blessing of consulting with her doctors, getting her to the skilled nursing facility, hiring hospice to keep her comfortable in her final days. We got to sing and pray with her up until her last breath, and we've been working together going through her treasures and trying to honor her final wishes.

On Sunday morning, as my mom was transitioning from our earthly world, my sister sat by her side, holding her hand and singing her into heaven. I was sitting on a United flight, midway between TX and the midwest (could that moment of turbulence been a soul hug?), and my brother Mipps was undoubtedly waiting for her at heaven's gate with his signature smile and a big bear hug. The power of three.

Another threesome I'm thinking about is my two moms and me.

Not Ruby and Mom, but my biological mom before dementia

and the mom I'd visit after the disease took over.

Here she is in 1955, graduating from high school and moving on to Belling Nursing school. It was during her time as a young nursing student that she took care of my dad's grandfather and caught his eye. It's also how she got her best friend, my Godmother Sue. Mom was taking care of Sue's Grandma, who introduced the girls, whose fast friendship lasted an incredible 68 years.

She was a quintessential, modern-day Florence Nightingale, doing her level best to take care of everyone. Not only did she raise five of her own children, but she helped rear seven foster children. The day after mom passed away, a foster sister from more than five decades ago reached out to offer to help pay for her funeral expenses. Another powerful threesome: How long do connection, compassion and kindness last?

Sometimes a lifetime!

The other mom, the one wearing my mom's jewelry and clothes whom I didn't always recognize but grew to truly love and adore, stayed with us for about five years. She was equally as loving and sweet, even as the light in her eyes slowly faded away.

I'm grateful that she was always able to call me by name, even as the jaws of dementia were devouring her. I got to read Birdie & Mipps to her in July and she loved it, but I'm not confident that she could understand that I wrote it, that it was dedicated to her, or that it was loosely based on two of her children. Still, she said it would be lovely if she could have a copy and was tickled pink that I would give this to her.

Two moms plus me, the three of us, connected by heart. Read her obituary (here).

Just like those stalks of corn, we're still standing

and we grieve with the hope of seeing her again.

I remain ever so grateful to be rooted

in her inspiring example and legacy of love.