December 25, 2019 - Christmas morning

It's dark and quiet this Christmas morning. The fire is crackling in the wood stove and the only other light in the room is that from the Christmas tree. It's time to write the annual Christmas letter.

This past year has been one of change. 

Mom came to visit last Christmas. As it turned out, it was the last time we were able to enjoy her company on Pentoga Road. How she loved to sit in the recliner by the wood stove, a blanket over her lap, and watch the deer walk through the back yard.

I was in the Florence, Wisconsin, School District several days a week for the spring semester of 2019. With Sargie working long and hard hours, substitute teaching made the cold winter days fly by. I discovered that I not only missed contact with the munchkins, I had also been missing a professional family. Being the "old man" in the school was a joy and I made many teacher-friends, most younger than my sons and some young enough to be my grandchildren.

I spent an unusual summer concentrating all my efforts on digging a garden pond, a huge hole in the ground that ended up being over eleven feet deep and measuring twenty six feet across. I ignored the vegetable part of the garden and in doing so, had one of the best growing seasons of the past few years. 

Go figure.

Sargie will tell you I spent all summer "playing in the dirt." Though I deny it wasn't that bad, in retrospect, I must confess, it seems as though I was surrounded by dirt all summer.

Macrea and I took some time away from life and had a wonderful forty-two mile backpacking trip along the shores of Lake Superior. It was Macrea's first long distance trek and he did it like a pro.

With Mom turning 92, we opted to drive to Terre Haute, Indiana, to visit with her for a few short days in June rather that have Mom endure the ten to twelve hour trip to Pentoga Road. During that time we drove from Indiana to Galesburg, Illinois, so Mom could visit the graves of Dad, Grandma, and Grandpa. As it turned out, it would be Mom's last visit.

With the pond dug, I enlisted the aid of four friends to pull a very heavy liner into the hole. Water began flowing, via a garden hose, in mid August, and by the first of September, the pond, holding 18,000 gallons of water, was full. 

Work began on the garden house in early August. Though friends and family insist on calling the structure a she-shed, when finished, it will be a... garden house that shows a great deal of sensitivity and insight. 

Thanks to Yooper Brother Mark, Norriene, and Eileen, the title of she-shed vs. garden house has become kind of a national joke. That's okay, tease away. For a former rough/tough Alaska mountain man, I can be a sensitive kind of guy.

Sargie received an offer to join the staff of a satellite eye care office in Crystal Falls this past fall. After many years, she left the Vision Center as an optician, a position that required her to drive almost a hundred miles a day to one that is in our neighboring town. Sargie also cut down to  working with patients every Tuesday and Thursday. 

Sargie and I flew to the East Coast to witness my oldest son, Josh's, retirement ceremony from the Coast Guard. Commander Pennington is now civilian Pennington, still working for the Coast Guard out of Providence, Rhode Island.

While I'm doing family news...

Luke was promoted to Captain at the South Portland, Maine, Fire Department. Melinda is Director of Nursing, running a nicu (preemie) unit/clinic with multiple doctors, and the munchkins are doing well.

Matt, Jess, and their three little ones live outside of Portsmouth, New Hampshire, and are busy with the chore of raising Em, Ben, and Wes. Matt spends much of his time traveling the world, literally, with his job.

Andy and Ivy are doing great. Andy's been drilling for oil off the coast of Africa these past few months, dodging pirates and getting his hands dirty, but has gotten to spend several weeks with Ivy in northern Maine. We enjoy video conferencing back and forth.

The superintendent of the Florence School District called in early September, the day before classes were to begin, asking if I would consider being the interim elementary school principal until a permanent person could be found. Of course, I said I would.

The five weeks spent as an administrator were fun, gratifying, and extremely tiring. As much as I loved the staff and students, I was happy to retire again when the new permanent principal was hired.

I discovered this past fall that I'm not nearly as young as I once was.

Mom began having health problems in early October. We made a mad dash to Terre Haute to be with her and my sister and brother in law. Seems a simple procedure had produced internal bleeding and some horrible infection. An operation was required with the outcome somewhat in doubt.

A trooper, Mom came through in good shape, but upon waking, saw me by the side of her bed, sighed, and said, "Oh. I hoped when I woke up, I'd see Dad and Jesus." 

Though we laughed and I feigned indignation, I sensed that was a harbinger of things to come.

Mom never really did recover and spent much of October and November in either the nursing home receiving rehab or the hospital. At 92, her body was tired and quickly wearing out. 

Sargie and I visited Mom for the last time mid November, just days before she joined Jesus and Dad. We walked from the nursing home part of her beloved senior complex to her apartment where Sargie helped to exchange her summer wear for winter clothes. 

The phone rang early Thanksgiving morning. After enduring a snowstorm and long electrical outage, we learned Mom had gotten her wish. Surrounded by three loving nurses, all holding hands, and one singing to Mom, Jesus called Mama Home so she and Dad could finally be together. 

The funeral was a few days after in Galesburg. I was reunited with cousins, Penny, Ben, and others, whom I hadn't seen in decades. Mom and Dad are buried, side by side, and will be together here and in Heaven for all eternity. 

It's as it should be.

Since Mom's passing, Sargie and I have been plodding along, putting one foot in front of the other, letting the mourning and healing process happen. I know it takes that four letter word we all hate, T-I-M-E, but I won't lie, it's been hard, especially with the holiday season upon us. Mom joined us every Christmas for the past many years and the three of us had developed our own holiday routine.

Mom and I had our own Christmas morning tradition. In the dark early morning hours, with Sargie remaining in bed, we'd sit in the living room and sip coffee, enjoy the warmth of the wood stove, and talk about Christmases and family of years gone by. They were special mother/son moments that cemented a bond between us that no time or death can ever break.

As I sit here this morning, I'm looking at Mom's chair and half expect her to be there. Though I don't see her, I know she is.

She's my mama. She'll always be there for me. That's what mothers do.

I'll close this year's Christmas note by sharing a poem that accompanied a very special ornament given to me by Mel and Macrea after Mom died. It has certainly helped me and hopefully, will give you peace, comfort, and even joy, when thinking of a loved one who has gone ahead.

So for this year, Merry Christmas, God bless.

Love, 
Sargie and Tom

Merry Christmas From Heaven

by John Mooney

I still hear the songs

I still hear the lights

I still feel your love on cold winter nights

I still share your hopes and all your cares

I’ll even remind you to please say your prayers

I just want to tell you, you still make me proud

You stand head and shoulders above all the crowd

Keep trying each moment, to stay in His grace

I came here before you to help set your place

You don’t have to be perfect all the time

He forgives you the slip, if you continue the climb

To my family and friends,

Please be thankful today

I’m still close beside you,

In a new special way

I love you all dearly,

Now don’t shed a tear

Cause I’m spending my

Christmas with Jesus this year

I love you too, Mama. Merry Christmas.