
That plan changed when my brother phoned. He has been writing little memoir chapters for his children and grandchildren, and this month he honored our mother with his words. This year marks 50 years of our being motherless. Since 1960 I have found Mothers' Day to be the most difficult day of the year. But for some reason, my brother's words have started to ease my pain. I've always been grateful for the near perfect childhood Mother gave us, but it's also been a battle to believe the mantra I've chanted for fifty years, "Mom accomplished 90 years of work in a short 45 years. It was time for her to rest with God."
Here are the healing words of my brother, Frederick E. Miller. A short addendum of my memories follows.
May 7, 2010
As Mother’s Day approaches, I have been thinking about Mom. As I look back, I really appreciate all the things that she accomplished in her “too short” life. I don’t know how she managed to accomplish all that she did.
Grandma & Granddad were also employed full time. We had a large vegetable garden which needed lots of attention. Mom & Grandma picked, cleaned, & canned for hours at a time. The shelves of the cold cellar were filled with jars of food.
As time passed, the garden shrank, a freezer was bought, an automatic washer, dryer, & a cylinder type ironing machine appeared. Some clothes were still hung out, there was still a garden, and canning & freezing were still done. On holidays hours, if not days, were spent preparing feasts.
She nursed me through a long recovery from polio, & what now seems to have been more than an average amount of childhood injuries.
When Dad had spinal surgery & was in a cast from his armpits to his thighs for months, she continued with all the usual business & home duties. He was unable to bend his spine so he either had to stand, or lay flat. She had to take him everywhere, including to job sites. The business was sold because Dad could no longer do the heavy work.
During all this time, Mom continued to participate in church & community activities several evenings every week. She had a selfless attitude in which she felt that we all had a responsibility to help others.
The week before Thanksgiving of November of 1960 she was walking up the back yard, coming home from work. She suffered a serious stroke. She never made it home. She’d been exhausted for weeks with unexplained bruise-like discolorations appearing on her body. In hospital she was diagnosed with idiopathic thrombocytopenic purpura (ITP), a low platelet count of no known cause. She suffered more strokes & passed away on Sunday after Thanksgiving.
She lived far too short a life.
Even though she enjoyed life, I can’t help but think that she worked way too hard.
Love you Mom!
I remember all the beautiful clothes Mom made. One time she made burgundy corduroy suits for the whole family. We wore them to a state fair, and they were displayed in a local store window. She must have stayed up very late at night to sew. She had no other time.
She could dress like a fashion queen or a tomboy. She often wore a baseball cap, unusual for her time. And how she loved to drive and fuss at other drivers for their incompetence! Never curse, just tell them off with feeling! She was bold and independent.
I love you too, Mom. And I honor you this Mother's Day with more gratitude than pain, finally.




















e purchasing over-packaged snacks creating party trash depicted by the costumes at the left, green hostesses make their own party food and serve one drink for all guests--apple cider. Cider can be jazzed up or toned down to meet the taste needs of guests no matter their age. 


