Rosemary Pridemore Hughes, 1945-2004: A Tribute
What can I say about my mom?
That she was brilliant with word games… sharp-witted… the first to offer comfort in a time of need… awesome in the kitchen… handy with shears. Mom never met a stranger or a crossword puzzle she didn’t like. She was unbelievably spontaneous. She loved bright colors… and she did sparkle.
Mom was a selfless giver. We’d try to tell her we could do things on our own, but she would insist, saying, “that’s what a mother is for.”
Mom took a special delight in helping others outside the family, too. She’d give time, energy and love without a second thought. She had a knack for making even the most casual acquaintance feel like a life-long friend. It wasn’t just an act. She wasn’t just being polite. That was genuine.
She loved malted milk balls and she loved to shop.
She never left the house without lipstick or jewelry.
She could hear a tune just once, and play it on the piano, complete with chords. I never knew anyone else who could do that.
She was deathly afraid of bugs, but when she and I were living on our own, she was the slayer of many a rogue spider on my behalf.
Mom always held my hand whenever I was too scared. I will never forget her talent for making me laugh, just when I was most likely to cry. When I was about eleven years old, facing surgery for the first time, Mom had me laughing all the way to the operating room. She held my hand until they made her quit.
What can I say about my mom? Mom was my hero. She was also my best friend. I owe her a debt I can never repay, but she wouldn’t want to let me. She'd tell me, “that’s what a mother is for.”
That she was brilliant with word games… sharp-witted… the first to offer comfort in a time of need… awesome in the kitchen… handy with shears. Mom never met a stranger or a crossword puzzle she didn’t like. She was unbelievably spontaneous. She loved bright colors… and she did sparkle.
Mom was a selfless giver. We’d try to tell her we could do things on our own, but she would insist, saying, “that’s what a mother is for.”
Mom took a special delight in helping others outside the family, too. She’d give time, energy and love without a second thought. She had a knack for making even the most casual acquaintance feel like a life-long friend. It wasn’t just an act. She wasn’t just being polite. That was genuine.
She loved malted milk balls and she loved to shop.
She never left the house without lipstick or jewelry.
She could hear a tune just once, and play it on the piano, complete with chords. I never knew anyone else who could do that.
She was deathly afraid of bugs, but when she and I were living on our own, she was the slayer of many a rogue spider on my behalf.
Mom always held my hand whenever I was too scared. I will never forget her talent for making me laugh, just when I was most likely to cry. When I was about eleven years old, facing surgery for the first time, Mom had me laughing all the way to the operating room. She held my hand until they made her quit.
What can I say about my mom? Mom was my hero. She was also my best friend. I owe her a debt I can never repay, but she wouldn’t want to let me. She'd tell me, “that’s what a mother is for.”
posted by Becky @ 3:51 PM
1 Comments:
At 11:37 AM,
Donna J. Shepherd said…
Beautiful tribute! Did you read that at the funeral? You certainly had me in tears. She sounds like a jewel. Sparkling and colorful. Thanks for sharing.
Donna
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