Archives

For us, Valentine’s Day changed fifteen years ago.

Since owning a restaurant many years ago, Don and I have never been big on going out to restaurants on Mother’s Day or Valentine’s Day. Just too many people.  But fifteen years ago, Don and I decided to do something crazy, we planned to go out to dinner on Valentine’s Day. We were living in Lake Havasu City(LHC) at the time, and planned to drive to Laughlin, and eat at one of the restaurants there.

It was a Sunday, and that morning we received a call from Don’s mom, Doris. Our home was above the high school. Don’s parents also lived in LHC, not far from us, off Palo Verde below the high school.

Doris told Don her husband, Don’s stepfather, Walter, had fallen while they were getting ready to go to church. Walter was 89 years old. He had lost a leg several years prior and wore an artificial prothesis. 

Walter was from Hawaii. His mother was Portuguese, and his father was Puerto Rican. He was born in Hilo, Hawaii, raised on a sugar cane plantation, where his father worked. To say he came from a big family would be an understatement. According to Walter, his mother had over twenty children. 

He was twenty years old when Pearl Harbor was attacked. Hawaii wasn’t a state yet. I remember Walter telling me how after Pearl Harbor he had to bus Japanese Americans to internment camps, something that he didn’t want to do. Many of those Japanese Americans were his friends.

Walter remained single for many years, helping to raise and support his siblings, even buying his parents their last home in Hilo, which his parents ended up leaving to one of his brothers.

He moved to California, where he met his wife, Don’s mother. They worked together in Sunrise Market, in Covina, California. Doris was a young widow with two small children. Her husband had died of lung cancer at the young age of thirty-two. Walter was 39 when he married Doris, and for Don, he was the only father Don ever knew.

Walter could be cranky and contrary, but I always got along with him. He would frequently  tell me I was his favorite daughter-in-law, and I would remind him, I was his only daughter-in-law. 

He and my own father were very different from each other, yet they had a few things in common, aside from sharing the same first name. They were both hard workers and extremely honest. They both enjoyed fishing, yet Dad preferred lake fishing, while Walter liked any fishing—as long as he was catching fish. They both  enjoyed gambling. Although Dad preferred blackjack, while Walter liked the slots. 

When Walter lost his leg in his eighties, my respect for him grew. He bravely accepted his new challenge, and I never heard him complain. I found it inspirational how he handled himself, and how he helped a young woman in his church, who had lost her leg in a motorcycle accident.

On that Valentine Sunday, by the time Don arrived at his parent’s house, his mother, with the help of a neighbor had already managed to get Walter to his feet. Don immediately started asking his father typical questions one might ask an elderly person who had fallen, while Walter kept insisting, he was fine.

Despite Walter’s wishes, Don called 911, and after the paramedics showed up, they started asking him many of the same questions Don had just asked, to which Walter grumbled, “My son already asked me that.”

The paramedic asked Don if he thought Walter’s color looked off, to which Don told him, yes.  It was after this they slipped the oxygen mask on Walter.


The next moment, Walter died. Just like that. Without fuss or drama, he was gone.

The paramedics went into resuscitation mode, and rushed Walter off to the hospital, but Don knew.  His mother, didn’t. And as they drove to the hospital, Doris wondered aloud how long they would keep Walter in the hospital.

Of course, Walter never came home. Like Don suspected, when the paramedics took him away, he was already gone. It was difficult for Doris, losing Walter so suddenly. She would often express her shock at his sudden exit, asking why he had to go. Yet, Don always says when it is his time, he wants to go like Walter did. Of course, Don also witnessed the excruciatingly drawn out deaths of my parents. But the truth is, when you lose someone, you love, death is never easy for the person left behind, regardless of a swift or slow exit.

Don and I didn’t go out to dinner that night, and for a few years after that, Doris always wanted us to go out to dinner with her on Valentine’s Day, to one of Walter’s favorite restaurants.

A few years after Walter’s death, Doris sold her house, and we built a guest house on our property for her, where she lived for a couple of years, before she passed away. We had both Doris and Mom living with us during this time. Don and I used to say we had them both living with us because we wanted to go to Heaven.

Mom deeply missed Doris when she passed on. The two had been close, with much in common. They were the same age, shared grandchildren, and then great-grandchildren.  Doris passed away on October 26, 2014, and Mom passed away almost exactly ten years later on October 24, 2024.

They have all moved on. I think of them daily, and I understand how lucky I was to have such supportive parents and in-laws, who always made me feel loved and accepted. I wish everyone had that.

 I wonder, did any of them get together this Valentine’s Day?

Mom reached out to me this morning.

This morning, while making my bed, I tapped on the top of my Apple HomePod. Last night I had been listening to a book with it, and I wondered if it might start playing again. But instead of the book, Siri said something like, “I’ve selected a song especially for you.” Then Moon River started playing.

Moon River was one of my mom’s favorite songs. As some of you reading this already know, she passed away three months ago—on October 24.  During the last three days of her life, I was by her side throughout the day, and even though she was unconscious, I would play her favorite songs for her. One of those was Moon River.

I don’t think I have ever played Moon River at home. At least, not since she moved into the care home, 18 months before her death. And the last time I played the song on my phone was three months ago, as I sat by her bedside at the care home.

I suppose skeptics will roll their eyes and say Siri played it because I played it numerous times back in October.

But for me, I see it different. Mediums often tell us spirits use music to reach out to loved ones they’ve left behind. For me, Mom was reaching out, letting me know she was okay, and thanking me for being by her side and playing her favorite songs.

Merry Christmas from Mom

Mediums often tell us that when our loved ones pass on, they can send us messages from beyond, letting us know they are okay. These messages might come in the form of butterflies, feathers, pennies, birds, or even songs on the radio.

During Mom’s illness we often discussed death and what we believed happened when we moved on. It was a discussion I never had with my father during his illness and final days. Back then his impending death was the elephant in the room that we never discussed. I have much regret not broaching that topic with him.

When discussing with Mom, those signs mediums mentioned, I asked her to send me crows. Her response, “But what if I don’t know how?”  I assured her that when she passed over, she would be able to figure it out.

Before I go on with my story, three things you need to know about Mom. First, she passed away on October 24, 2024. Her first name was Caroline. Her nickname amongst close family and friends, Sweet Caroline. Mom also loved Christmas, and during the last few years of her dementia, she fretted about Christmas, afraid she would not have the money to buy her grandchildren and children gifts. That was very important to her.

This afternoon Don and I drove to the post office to mail some Christmas gifts to my sister and daughter’s family. When we got home, Don walked out to the mailbox while I took the dogs outside for a minute.

Don returned from our mailbox with a small package. He said it was for me. At first, I thought it was my medication, in one of those plastic-like gray mailing bags. It wasn’t from Amazon, and I hadn’t ordered anything.

The item was shipped from some company in California. Inside was a small box with an ornament inside. No invoice. No card.  

The ornament, a crow with a Santa’s hat, personalized, “Sweet Caroline.” Of course I cried. 

I have no doubt Mom sent me that crow ornament. She probably whispered in someone’s ear to get it done. The three most likely helpers would be my husband, sister, or daughter.  While I didn’t ask them, my sister and husband say it wasn’t them.

Why am I so convinced Mom instigated my gift? Because I know she instigated the gifts her other daughter and grandchildren will be receiving this Christmas. After Mom passed, she had a little money left in the bank account we share. I could practically hear her telling me it was almost Christmas, and she needed to buy them gifts.

The other day my sister and Elizabeth received the See’s Candy I ordered for them from Mom. My sister said both she and her husband cried when they received Mom’s Christmas gift. See’s is a big thing in our family during Christmas. Mom loved ordering it for her family and buying some for herself. When I was a child, Mom’s mother, my Grandma Hilda, didn’t have a lot of money to spend at Christmas, but each year she would buy each of her grandchildren a pound of See’s Candy. For me and my sister, it was always a pound of Bordeaux’s, our favorite. 

So I am pretty sure Mom made sure I had a Christmas gift this year, since she was getting her other daughter and the grandchildren gifts.