On Wednesday, there was a celebration of Mom's life.
She couldn't make it. She was already in heaven, probably playing the piano for Dad.
More than likely, Liberace was begging her for lessons.
She was that talented, and she played by ear. Later in life, she forced herself to learn to read music because she wanted to, not because she needed it.
Mom could hear a song on the radio one time and walk over to the piano and play it flawlessly.
That special gene skipped every generation since, so the family made sure as her dementia worsened that she had keyboards in her room at Fox Ridge Assisted Living.
Mom, though, preferred the piano in the all-purpose room, and staff members made sure she always had access, mostly because her playing and singing drew a crowd of other patients.
She was a dementia patient who always had the privilege of eating in the main dining room (where the piano was).
Mom was 96 when she got her wings a week ago today.
At the celebration -- carefully planned by my sisters Lola Hall and Sue Fisher -- the "Pigskin Preacher" Chuck Monan did an amazing job presenting Mom's life.
His church, Pinnacle Church of Christ, was amazing with its support.
Chuck was impressed that at 90, Mom mowed her own yard with an old push mower. When a lawn service was hired, she fired the workers, called and yelled at me about wasting money.
When she broke her hip three years ago, she was given a 9% chance of living another year.
Less than a year later, my sisters took her to the River Market almost against her will. She complained loudly, and she was good at that.
When Mom heard music, in an instant she was dancing on the sidewalk and laughing.
About a year ago, a call came from Fox Ridge. Mom had been in an altercation.
Mom was kicked out of her first assisted-living facility for taking long, unauthorized walks, all in the direction of her old home.
Fox Ridge, though, was a second home to her and she settled in, except for the time she opened the door to the dementia ward and yelled for everyone to run for their lives.
Her meds were reassessed, and she became happier, although every visit was met with, "When is God taking me home. I'm ready."
As Chuck told the crowd at the Little Rock Funeral Home, Mom was generous to a fault. She would greet the guys who pick up lawn debris on the curb with Cokes and honey buns.
Or when she gave $100 to a man without a coat. When she was told he might use it to buy alcohol, she defiantly said that was between him and God. What she did was between her and God.
Oh, and that altercation last year, Mom was on her way to the main dining room and was waiting on an aide to open the door when she was slapped from behind by another patient.
Mom wheeled around on her walker and punched the woman. She said she was embarrassed by her actions, but she always re-enacted her move.
It probably was not much of a coincidence that Mom left this earth on an off week for the University of Arkansas. Not just because she was a lifelong fan but also because she wouldn't have wanted me to miss work.
Work was something Mom believed in.
Among the things we found in her house were my tax returns from 1966-68 when I was a delivery boy for Town and Country Drug Store.
On Wednesday, there were tears of sorrow because Mom will be missed. But there were also tears of joy.
She made her journey to a new home where she no longer needs a walker and she can play the piano for Dad.
In Mom's final year, her memory prevented full conversations. So everyone was greeted with "God bless," and she meant it.
Sports on 10/06/2019