Memories of Mom

                                                                   

Mom on her wedding day

I lost my mom, Virginia Coppinger (Harding), a week ago at the age of 89.  This blog will be a memorial to her memory and the influence she has had on my life and other family members.  I'm going to reach back into my mind to capture some events that have remained with me throughout the years. Grab a cup of coffee, kick your feet up and take a trip down memory lane with me.  It might be a memoir similar to yours....
                                                 

Mom is the little imp on the right

Mom was born in Greentown, IN, in 1928, during an out-of-town trip.  Although that was her birthplace, her family's residence was in Gary, IN. She was the youngest of two daughters. Her father, John Harding, was a real estate developer and an accomplished artist.  Her mom was a teacher and at one time had Virginia as a student at Lew Wallace High School.  It must have been hard to be in your own mother's classroom.  Georgia Harding had to act impartial to the fact that she was teaching her own child.  Absolutely no family privilege was granted or exhibited. Grandma was a huge influence on mom.  She was strict but kind.  She instilled a love of books and reading in her daughters that was passed on to us. Mom attended Lew Wallace from kindergarten through graduation and fostered childhood friendships that lasted for a lifetime.  Some of them called her "Gin" or "Ginny" as a nickname.  Mom also got in trouble a lot.  Several visits to the principal, Ms. Hoke, took place.  I have mom's old yearbook and there are several "endearing" comments written next to the administrator's tight-lipped picture. Her older sister, Patty, would attend Purdue University.  Mom had a love for movies, music and the entertainment industry.  She really wanted to attend Northwestern University for acting, but her request was denied because it wasn't a proper choice.  I really think she missed her calling.  We should all pursue a career that inspires us.

Gary Business College sweethearts

                                                     
After graduation mom attended Gary Business College.  This is where she met my dad, Byrt Thomas Coppinger.  He would purposefully bump her chair until she finally asked him to quit.  That's how dad got her to go out with him, I guess.  Sometimes, it's nice to be bothered, especially when you are young and ready to leave the nest.  She told us she loved dad's pretty brown eyes, his nice hands and his thick, dark hair.  Dad was indeed handsome, and when he asked for mom's hand in marriage, she said yes!

Mom and Dad on their wedding day

They were married in 1953 and had their first daughter, Moneta Ann, in 1955.  Then, Gayl, in 1959 and finally me, Susan Lee, in 1962.  We grew up in Hobart, IN, land of the Brickies. Their marriage was in no way perfect, just like all marriages.  But they forged through and we always knew that mom and dad would be there for us.  Our family lived in several different states but northwest Indiana is where I call home. Mom took care of us no matter where we moved, keeping a nice house, getting us ready for school and making sure we did our homework. Dad was a hard-working self-made man who taught us that success is not something that is handed to you.  But it was mom who taught us about classic movies, actors, and singers.  She loved to sing! There wasn't a Frank Sinatra or Peggy Lee song she didn't know. And she loved to dress up!  I have many childhood memories of her and dad getting dressed up to go out somewhere.  How many of you ladies loved to watch your mom get ready when you were a kid?  Did she stand in front of the mirror teasing her hair into a ridiculously high beehive?  Did she drive your dad crazy because she took so long to get ready?  Or, perhaps, you can still smell the scent of Chanel no 5 wafting through the house because your mom sprayed it in a thick cloud of aromatic delight.  It's still my favorite perfume.

Our family

Our lives were simple. Very simple.  We were not rich, but were fortunate enough to live in many nice homes over the years.  Some were haunted, some were not.  That story might be told in another blog.  But one day dad really surprised mom and us.  We were living in Indianapolis at the time in the late sixties.  The bus had just dropped us off after school.  All of a sudden, dad pulled into the driveway behind the wheel of an absolutely stunning 1969 turquoise blue Thunderbird!  My mom rushed outside and exclaimed, "Byrt, it's gorgeous!"  We all piled in and took a ride!  Of course, he gunned the engine a few times.   Dad made up for never teaching mom how to drive (she taught herself) that day.  Not too long ago, I saw a gentleman in a parking lot with a similar car and I told him about our old one.  How our family loved that automobile.  It was enjoyed by all of us so much.  Classic cars make classic memories..

As a child, I loved to ask mom to tell me the story of when I was born.  She recalled that the Tonight Show was on and Johnny Carson was introducing his next guest, when the labor pains started.  I was born in the wee hours of the morning at Methodist Hospital in Gary, IN, during a time when, ridiculously, fathers were not allowed in the hospital delivery room!  What???  When he was finally allowed to see mom, dad walked in and quipped, "Well, do I have my boy, yet?"  Alas, I was the third and final baby girl she would have.  Susan Lee Coppinger, future pain in my sisters' sides, tomboy, rebel, wife, mother, and finally, my mom's caregiver when she could no longer handle her own affairs.
                                                           

My first Christmas

Neither of my parents were the molly-coddling type.  We were disciplined when we needed to be, albeit sometimes excessively.  Any parent knows there's a fine line between punishment and stepping over the line.  Yes, mom pulled my hair a time or two.  What she liked to call, "snatching me bald-headed."  Like the time I played with the front door lock and we couldn't get in the house.  Or the time, as a smart alec teenager, when I called her a bitch and she chased me down to the basement with the broom.  However, up until the day I moved out with my boyfriend Rick, (who I later married), I kissed my mom and dad before bedtime every night.  Our own girls have followed suit.  Nothing wrong with that.  We still do.

I remember when a neighborhood girl bullied me and waited outside my house taunting me to come outside and fight.  My mom said, "I don't want you to make trouble, but I don't want you to take trouble." Then she, along with everyone else in my family, told me to go out there and kick that mean girl's butt. Too bad I wound up with a large bump over my eyebrow.  My big sisters would beat that same bully up for me on two different occasions.  Karma is sweet.

Another nice memory is the dozen red roses mom presented me with when I graduated from high school.  She told me she was proud of me.  You don't forget things like that.  Especially from your mom or dad.  I moved out of the house shortly after high school.  It was a tense time between my parents and me but we all got past it.  I couldn't relate, of course, until I had children of my own.  It is incredibly difficult to see your children move on in life with someone else.  Thank God our two girls have married wonderful men.

Sis, me and mom on my graduation day

Before dad died mom helped him maintain the Hoosier Court Hotel and mini mart in Rockville, IN.   She had to keep the rooms clean and do all the laundry.  It was hard work.  I know they both took a lot of pride in the business and after a long day they would walk a block to the Ritz Theater to see a movie together.  Dad could turn any business into a gold mine.  And he did, along with mom's help.
I'm proud of that.

What a journey life is.  When you are a kid, you don't appreciate the things your parents do for you.
Hell no.  You rant and rebel against the molding of good manners, dating restrictions,  or any other stringent rules that your parents force you to abide by.  Then, one day, after your own kids leave the nest, as have our two girls, you suddenly come to the realization that your parents knew what they were doing.  Even though they might have gone too far at times in the discipline department they raised three awesome girls and we have in turn, raised our own children in a similar manner.  The circle of repetition has had the desired effect.  Our kids have manners, compassion and a strong work ethic.

Dad passed away in 1985.  Mom was a widow for 32 years.  She had a few male friendships afterward but no one could replace dad in her heart or ours.  That's the way it should be.  She lived in California with her sister a short while but then moved back to Hobart and later Crown Point, IN.

Mom loved to sing!

We moved mom closer to us as she aged.  She did all right at first but when she started to exhibit erratic behavior we knew she needed assisted living.  Because dad was a veteran, (thank you dad),  I was able to get her the surviving spouse VA benefit to help with the cost.  Please look into to this wonderful benefit if you have a loved one who qualifies.

Mom and the girls, on a good day

Slowly but surely Alzheimer's disease started to take its tole on mom.  The stories of her childhood and life began to fade away, like the seashells which slip from our grasp when we reach into the water to capture them.  There for too short a time, before another wave washes them to an unreachable location. I tried as much as I could to remind her of how she used to dance the night away at the Indiana Dunes Pavillion with dad, while Herb Alpert serenaded the dancers.  Or how we drove for a week on a family vacation to reach California when we were kids. Her memories, at first, could be retrieved with gentle reminders.  But like a dark oil slick spreading over the ocean, the disease crept into her mind, robbing her of all recollection of anything to do with her husband, her life and her family.  At the end, she no longer recognized any of us. I prefer to think that she did know us but was unable to tell us.  Her speech became broken and garbled. It was very hard for my sister, husband and my daughters to witness her slow but steady decline.  But it wasn't all sad.  We made friends with many other kind residents and staff.  We enjoyed just being with mom, talking and laughing over old times.  We remembered FOR mom.  Isn't that what family does?

Mom's last Christmas 2016

Mom didn't take very many medications.  Two blood pressure pills and two memory pills.  She never lost her sense of humor or love of music and singing.  She continued to giggle and hum random tunes right up until she took a turn for the worse.  Everyone loved her feistiness at the nursing home.  When she started to decline, my youngest daughter, Natalie, who is a CNA, prepared me for what was to come.  In fact, she had talked to me months before, gently relaying what to expect.  Thank you, honey.  You are an old soul in a young body.  She was the first one at mom's side when we received the dreaded call that mom didn't have long to live.  Natalie resides a little closer to the nursing home than we do.  When we arrived she was sitting next to her grandma, holding her hand and whispering for her to hold on until the rest of us got there.  I'm so very thankful that my oldest daughter, Laura, a third-year vet school student, and her husband Jacob, were in town to be with her.  Rick, (who mom adored and always called a peach), and I, walked in and went to her bedside.  I kissed mom's soft cheek and told her dad was waiting and that we would all be reunited soon.  She seemed to immediately relax, drew her last few breaths and peacefully passed to the other side.  God is good.

I love you mom.