Today is a post that I never wanted to make, but here I am. Things have been a little quiet lately because a couple weeks ago my mother passed. My mom lived in Idaho, so Patrick and I recently spent a week up there working on things, and we will return next month.

Originally hailing from Idaho, my mom moved to Oregon for school, where she met my dad. My parents got married in the fall of 1971, a few years later they adopted my cousins due to unfortunate family circumstances, and they never really planned on having any other children, so I was a surprise in spring of 1988. But only a few years later my parents divorced, and I lived with my mom, seeing my dad every other weekend. My sister had since returned to her biological mother, my aunt, and my brother remained with my dad. After I got married and right before Patrick and I moved to California, my mom returned to her hometown in Idaho to care for her aging father, until he passed. Shortly after that she made friends with a young woman, her husband, and their daughter, who she embraced like members of the family, and who I have since as well. They looked after her as she began to age and have been the biggest supporters through this process.

My mom did everything she could to give me a happy childhood. Despite moving around a lot, the first thing she did when we moved into a new place was get my room ready, making sure I had a space all to myself. Any venture I wanted to do and she could afford, she supported. Painting, drawing, ceramics, tap dancing, acting, archery, and fencing were all things she found classes for me so I could try them out. I remember when I was in high school I expressed interest in wanting to pursue a career in archeology. She found a dig in southern Oregon accepting volunteers for a week long experience, and we secured a cabin near the site and spent a long, hot day sifting. That night we returned dusty, tired, and sore. I said “Mom, I don’t think I want to be an archeologist and I don’t want to go back.” Ever supportive, she told a little white lie to get us out of the remainder of the volunteer opportunity. Like I said, supportive.

She supported my obsessions, from Beauty and the Beast to Titanic to Pirates of the Caribbean to Phantom of the Opera. She went to every midnight movie screening with me. She had her own obsessions of course, including Peanuts (hence the massive plush Snoopy) along with Nancy Drew, Lewis & Clark, and genealogy. She was there to help me pick out my back to school clothes and formal dance gowns. She attended the plethora of plays I was in, and when I graduated college, she supported my desire to sew, gifting me a sewing machine as my graduation present, and spent a week with me teaching me the ropes, and would often return to help me out with various sewing projects.

No, my mom wasn’t in the military, and no, that isn’t my dad, but she did work at an air and space museum, the job she had when I was born, instilling in me early a love of museums and history, something I am extremely thankful for.

I can’t think of an eloquent way to end this post, except by saying there is a lot going on amid this. This weekend Patrick and I attend D23, the massive Disney convention, and while I typically write about it, I’m not sure if I will or not. Then we head up to Oregon for my sister-in-law’s wedding! I have several fun things planned along the way, so hopefully I can share those.