Virginia Mae Brumbaugh (1923-2006)
When in college I was sometimes asked to describe my mother
to friends. What I usually said was this.
My mother was the oldest of 9 children. The day after she turned 21 she
married my Father. Ten months later she gave birth to my brother Bob. There
were 22 years between Bob and my kid brother Danny. In other words Mom was
taking care of brothers, sisters and children for almost all of her life.
Looking back, this was a bit understated. Mom was born to Bob and Rachel Reese who by all accounts raised their family in a house full of love. Evidence to this was that even after the start of great depression their house never had quite enough children for them. They had 9 and mom was the oldest. I can remember Mom telling stories about the love from her parents. She told me about snowy days where they would block of the top of their street for sledding and Rachel would make enough pie and hot chocolate for all the sled riders in the neighborhood. She also talked of the love of her father and how he was always playing with his children and clowning around for them. This is where Mom learned love and responsibility to family.
In her early adult life Mom was witness to World War II. For part of this time she worked at Curtis Wright to help with the war effort. She then married Dad who was serving in the Army Air Force. She spent over 40 years raising her family. She suffered the loss of her youngest brother (Jerry), an infant child (Jimmy) and at the age of 46 she lost her husband while still raising two sons (Me(15) and Dan(2)).So she not only took care of siblings and children, she did so in often-difficult times. Through it all everyone remembers Mom mostly for her good nature and kindness. The only time I remember her deviating from her kind demeanor was when one of her children was not behaving or if someone was hurting a member of her family. She generally did not forgive those who hurt her family.
When I was young, Mom was always there to kiss my boo-boos, quell my fears, and keep me on the straight and narrow. She saw me through the measles, mumps, chicken pox, and whooping cough. She helped explain to me the value of repeating second grade and she always showed pride in my smallest accomplishments. Although Mom gave me many gifts, there are a few that I will always hold dear. You see, I credit Mom (who had an eighth grade education) with inspiring my love for mathematics. When learning the basics of arithmetic in first and second grade, Mom was always showing me fun little things to do and games to play to make it all fun. I always liked to believe that given the right opportunities, Mom could have achieved her math degree as well.
I also credit Mom for my love for music. Many Saturdays in my youth I woke to the sounds of music coming from our living room. Mom would stack albums on the stereo changer as she did her house cleaning. On the stereo was a range of music from Mitch Miller, Easy Listening, Light Classics, to the real classics, Dorsey, Miller and Ellington. The music I was exposed to then has stayed with me into adulthood and has served as a rich source of discovery and memory.
The special Saturday mornings came right before Thanksgiving when the music changed to Christmas carols. Mom would be putting out the nativity scene, the miniature winter scene and hanging up the garland and Christmas lights. Mom loved Christmas and the carols would play right up to New Years Day. She got the love for Christmas from her mother and passed it to her children.
Mom also loved fixing the Thanksgiving and Christmas Dinner. Mom’s favorite activity with family was cooking. On the holidays we would have Aunts and Uncles and Cousins over. Mom would cook the standard holiday fair, turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and the lot. The kitchen table would be packed with Aunts and Uncles and there would be the extra folding tables for the kids. We would all eat like families do on these occasions, then the serious eating would slow down and the stories would start. My Aunts and Uncles would tell great stories for hours about their childhood. Those dinners and the story telling have become some of my favorite childhood memories.
When I was 12 Mom brought home the news that I would no longer be the baby in the family. In December she delivered Danny, my kid brother. After Dad passed away I sometimes overheard Mom say that, after finding out that she was pregnant with Danny, she was ready to jump off the Monaca Bridge, but later realized Danny was a gift from god that kept her going after Dad passed. This was probably a good observation. After Dan left home Mom’s health started to deteriorate. She just didn’t know how to fill out her life without someone to look after.
After her heart surgery Mom’s dementia made us aware that it was time for her to move to assisted living. As a part of making Mom feel included in the moving process, we brought her to her trailer to choose those things she needed and wanted to save. One thing she asked to keep was a set of hair curlers. She stored the curlers in a little plastic case. They were of two sizes and color-coded, red large and green small. Mom only wanted to keep the small ones, so I sat down with her to help her sort them out. The woman that I always believed was a sharp math mind was unable to figure out how to sort the curlers. This is when I realized how much of Mom we had lost.
Over the next year Mom’s operation induced dementia got better but the sign of Alzheimer’s slowly became more evident. Even in the assisted living facility, Mom never seemed as happy as when she could help in the kitchen and feel useful. Although her illness made her confused and sometimes scared, you could usually find Mom’s pleasant personality when the clouds lifted. On my visits I would load family pictures on my laptop and sit down and watch them with her. Her memory declined over time. She could remember fewer names and relationships with each visit. After every visit I would mourn the bit of Mom that was lost. On a visit last fall Kathie and I walked into her room and Mom looked at us quizzically and asked Bob who we were. Yet in that visit we connected in a way that was unique for us. I am not sure if she ever figured out who I was, but we sat and enjoyed each other's company through the weekend, more like good friends than Mother and Son.
Just before Mom’s passing I sent out an email to update friend and family about her condition. One of the people I sent the massage to was a dear friend of mine. Ruth worked with me until last year when her husband passed and she retired to Minnesota to be with her daughters and grandchildren. One reason I sent her my message was that she was a good Catholic girl who would have the prayers Mom needed. Ruth is also a giver much as Mom was.
In her return email Ruth expressed her condolences and suggested that when Mom passed and went to heaven she would be able to remember her family. This was indeed a comforting thought. When I sent Ruth a return email I thanked her for her kind thoughts and added that Mom is also once again watching over her family.
I ran across this simple poem while putting these thoughts together that I thought summed things up.
It is entitled “If I Grieve” by Fern Congor Palleson.
If I grieve at the loss of a friend,
It is only for self that I sorrow.
For the soul shall never end,
But rejoice in a new tomorrow.
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| Mom as a child | Dad, Mom and Bob |
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| Pat, George, Marge, Mom, Howard, Jim, and Shirley | Mom and her dad (Robert Reese) |
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| Mom, Jim, Shirley, Howard, Marge, George, Sam, Jerry | Mom, Jim, Grandma Rachel, Shirey, Howard, Marge, George, Pat, Sam, Jerry |
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| Bev, Mom, Bob, Dan and Don | Don, Bev, Mom, Bob, Dan |
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| Bob, Don, and Mom | Mom and Rachel |
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| Don, Dan, Mom, Bob | Mom |