My Mom Yvonne

Yvonne is my mom’s name. For those that were closest to her they called her Vonnie. It was a nickname she grew up with her entire life. Vonnie means “Victory bringer, womanly and brave”. I cannot think of a more fitting name for her. She carried her name with such pride, so much in fact that my middle name is Yvonne. A name in which I hope I was able to have shown her I also carry proudly.

Born in 1945, she was the eldest of nine. There are eight girls, and one boy. Yes, I have a very big family. That does not include the extended family. You know the ones who are there for every event no matter how big or small. The ones, you can call on no matter what the time, the ones who laugh with you and the ones whose shoulder you can cry on. One valuable lesson I learned about my extended family over the years is this. With such a big family, my mom and each one of my aunts have that one best friend they have had forever. When needed it doesn’t matter what friend belongs to what family member they all come together to support each other in a time of need. That is what I call “Family”.

I would love to be able to have that kind of friendship that my mom had, the kind of friendship where you don’t have to say a word, with a look of the eye, a nod of the head friendship, or the tone of your voice friendships. She has shown me how important it is to have that one person to be strong for you when you might not have it in you to be strong for yourself. I am a retired Air Force wife, and for the last thirty years we have moved all over the world from base to base. I have never really had that friendship you make at two or three years old that lasts a life time. I have friends, but like me they are always on the move. I envy my mom for having that kind of friendship; I guess you could even say I was jealous of her for it.

Throughout her life my mom has had a lot of struggles to work through. She was a single parent to three kids her entire life. I am the oldest; my sister Kim is the middle child, and my brother Anthony (Tony) the baby of the group. Our dad went to work on night and never returned. No he did not die, they never got divorced, and he simply chose to disappear. I could be standing next to him on the road and not even know it. All my memories of him have faded, or I guess I should say I have chosen to not have them. She continued on daily making sure we were all taken care of. Mom never went to work outside the home. Taking in sewing projects for people, alterations, making blankets and anything else people asked her for. She was always crocheting things. I had the best dressed Barbie’s around. I still have my Barbie clothes; I used them for my daughters and now my granddaughter. I was taught at a very early age how to sew and crochet. Mom taught me you do not need money to have beautiful things and the best gifts come from the heart. To this day I do a lot of sewing and crocheting. I make most of my gifts/presents for family and friends. I also used my love for it to teach my own children and grandchildren.

Did I mention we lived in Iowa? My mom had lived there her entire life, along with my sister and a whole lot of the rest of my family. No one lives in Iowa without having a farm, garden or both. When I was younger we lived on a farm, moving to town when I was in middle school. We raised pigs, chickens, rabbits and frogs. Of course as kids we thought they were so cute. That was until it came time to butcher them for food. I was not aware store bought eggs existed till I was a teenager. When we had more eggs than we could use we would pickle them, to eat later. It never bothered me; I learned how to butcher and clean rabbit’s, chickens and take the legs off a frog. Nothing ever went to waste, weather it was ears, feet or tongue. Most times we pickled those items to eat later. If we couldn’t use it we gave it to a neighbor. That’s what people do in Iowa, everyone helps everyone. I did what I needed to do in order to put food on the table. My sister and brother were not so keen on it.

When it comes to gardening, I can grow, pickle, can, freeze or make just about anything. We made our own pickles, and sauces including spaghetti sauce. I cannot think of one garden item that cannot be pickled. Green peppers stuffed, cooked and frozen for later meals. Corn, peas, carrots, brussel sprouts, broccoli, cabbage, tomatoes, okra and every kind of beans around had to be canned, or frozen. Lettuce was another big staple in our family. We made our own jams and jellies. If my mom had a smidge of something left it did not go to waste. She would throw it in something else we were making. She would always say, “Let’s just see how that tastes”. Onions hung in the cellar all year round. We used family recipes passed down from generation to generation. You know the ones. They are in family cookbooks with the tattered pages that have other pages of paper hanging out of them, some have sauces on them that have been wiped off, some torn in spots and taped back together. Words faded on most, but my mom always knew what the recipe called for, even if it could not be read. Held together with an old shoestring, that only got replaced when a shoestring broke on a pair of shoes and new ones had to be bought. Cause you know we don’t throw away anything, not even a half of a shoestring set. The recipes that if I later in life wanted to alter somehow (cut out some of the sugar), everyone in the family knew it was not Grandma or Great Grandma’s recipes. The recipes that are cherished and that I cherish and have passed down to my daughters who I hope someday will pass onto their children. To this day I still garden, can and freeze things. My family says it drives them crazy, that I always want to be so prepared for whatever, and have so much of everything. I cannot help it; my mom raised us to be prepared for anything, weather its winter months in Iowa, where nothing can be grown or a world Pandemic that shuts everything down.

Growing up mom always made sure we went to church every week. She never went with us, but she made sure we knew the importance of God and church. She helped us learn bible verses, hymns and anything else we needed, she just did not attend herself. I never questioned her. I knew she believed in God, she just had a different way to show it.

During her years mom volunteered for the Veterans Group, Pocahontas Group, Women’s relief Corp, and so much more. She was always involved in so many activities. I know that’s where I get my love for volunteering. The more volunteer work I do the happier I am.

Over the years she had two brain tumors that were removed, a couple of strokes, and a couple of heart attacks, and later diabetes. She took medication for high blood pressure, allergies and other ailments. Every time she was diagnosed with something or something happened she just said, “It was part of getting old”. I never heard her complain of anything unless it involved the doctor restricting her coffee or telling her she couldn’t have chocolate that week. She was never big on sweets or soda but she did enjoy both one time a week for years. Mom did not live a lavish lifestyle, she lived to enjoy life. In my 56 years of living I only heard my mom crying and complaining about pain once in her life, and it broke my heart. I have never felt or been so helpless in my life. There was nothing I could do. The world was in a middle of a Pandemic, everything shut down. Even if I could get to her I would not be allowed in the hospital. I let her down when she needed me the most. I failed my mom. The woman, who gave birth to me. Mom loved me unconditionally, who always put her kids and others first. Who taught me not only to love, but how to love. In my fifty-six years of life she taught me all her life lessons, good or bad with the hopes I would learn from them but pass them on to her Grandchildren and Great-Grand kids and generations to come. I failed my mom.

In February 2021 my mom turned 76 years old. Eight days later she received her second Covid 19 Immunization. Almost immediately after getting the immunization she had complications and had to be hospitalized. On March 1, 2021, four days after being hospitalized she passed away.

I don’t want people to use my mom’s story or my heartbreak as an excuse to not get the Covid immunization. Everyone needs to do what they feel is best for them. My mom Yvonne was so excited and proud to get her immunization. She wanted to be able to see her family and friends. She wanted to do her part of keeping her family and friends safe. She lived through so much and she felt she had so much more to live for and getting the immunization was a way to do that. She wanted to be part of history, the good part of the pandemic, if there is one. I am proud to say I followed in my mom’s footsteps and got my immunizations also. Good or bad I needed to do this. I did not want my mom’s death to be for nothing. Did she die from the immunization? Or were her complications from under lying medical issues? We don’t know it’s still be looked into. All I know is my mom always gave us the best and loved all of us till the moment she passed. I just hope and pray she knew how much we loved her, and miss her every day.