on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

[Guest guest]

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the

apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of

our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I

havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English

was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

What profound and touching memories you have. I LOVE the story from when you were 5; I never recall having read that before.Your mother taught you well, and you obviously gleaned much from her. Thank you for sharing the legacy that your mother left you.By the way, how did you find out that you don't carry the Alzheimer's gene? I'm very concerned that I may. My dad has it, though it is slowly (thank G*d) advancing. His short term memory is totally shot, but his long term still seems to be fairly intact.Thank you for sharing with us, n. I was especially moved by her passing. She lived a full, long life, and did in fact, get her desire granted--I too wish to go in my sleep; nothing finer than that!love to you our 'cyber mom',KateTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 6:52:27 PMSubject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the

apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of

our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I

havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English

was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

http://www.genetichealth.com/ALZ_Genetics_of_Alzheimers_Disease.shtmlThank you, so very much, Kate (blushing color of my last name, "roses."Love to you all,nTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 4:18:26 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

What profound and touching memories you have. I LOVE the story from when you were 5; I never recall having read that before.Your mother taught you well, and you obviously gleaned much from her. Thank you for sharing the legacy that your mother left you.By the way, how did you find out that you don't carry the Alzheimer's gene? I'm very concerned that I may. My dad has it, though it is slowly (thank G*d) advancing. His short term memory is totally shot, but his long term still seems to be fairly intact.Thank you for sharing with us, n. I was especially moved by her passing. She lived a full, long life, and did in fact, get her desire granted--I too wish to go in my sleep; nothing finer than that!love to you our 'cyber mom',KateTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 6:52:27 PMSubject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has now died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the

apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of

our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I

havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table) and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English

was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

n you always have the most interesting stories, and what a great life you lived. and still are!

I never knew my biological mother. She gave me to my dad when I was 2, so she could go to Hollywood to become a movie actress. Never happened, she ended up in Texas, married many times, divorced, and an alcoholic. She died a few years ago with COPD. I only saw her once when I was 19, and then after I got married and had children she called a couple times a year, but other than that we never really bonded. I have her ashes here at home and thats about as close as I've been to her. I'm not quite sure what to do with them.

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I

remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not

been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday

morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that,

and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

Jackie, one can get a permit to scatter the ashes somewhere, or bury them.Love to you and to your real familly,nTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 5:18:50 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers

here

n you always have the most interesting stories, and what a great life you lived. and still are!

I never knew my biological mother. She gave me to my dad when I was 2, so she could go to Hollywood to become a movie actress. Never happened, she ended up in Texas, married many times, divorced, and an alcoholic. She died a few years ago with COPD. I only saw her once when I was 19, and then after I got married and had children she called a couple times a year, but other than that we never really bonded. I have her ashes here at home and thats about as close as I've been to her. I'm not quite sure what to do with them.

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying

peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I

remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not

been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday

morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that,

and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

Jackie, that's just sad.

  ~*~Hugs~*~

~*~Akiba~*~

Pragmatic Visionary

http://www.affiliates-natural-salt-lamps.com/pages/156.php

-- on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

I know, but I don't want to let go of them quite yet. For some reason knowing she is here with me gives me some kind of closure. I'm thinking of having her put in with me when its my turn. I don't think thats creepy, do you?

I forgot to tell you that your mother sounded like a remarkable woman. I liked how your father talked to you too. :-D

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully

on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they

would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not

read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what

yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

Ahh Akiba thanks. I think back on my life and it would make a good melodrama. I've worked thru a lot of it, and I suppose there was plenty to teach me, but sometimes I wonder if the reason I am so ill is because of how stressful my life was from baby on.....my step-mom [the one who made the pies] and I never got along. My dad never talked to me, and no one hugged or told me they loved me. I know that sounds so pitiful, but it caused me to shower my own children with an over abundance of hugs and kisses and telling them I loved them every day, so good came of something sad.

Hugs, Jackie

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I

remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not

been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday

morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that,

and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

I do that with Robbin as well, and part of that is because Rob's parents never hugged or kissed him, never encouraged him, my own mom always made sure I would not succeed, and I did despite her, not because of her. So I hug Robbin many times a day, kiss him always, and never tell he can't do or be something, or grow up to be what he wants to be.

  ~*~Hugs~*~

~*~Akiba~*~

Pragmatic Visionary

http://www.affiliates-natural-salt-lamps.com/pages/156.php

-- on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

Thank you for sharing your story with us, n. I loved getting a glimpse into your life. love to you! SharonThis email is a natural hand made product. The slight variations in spelling and grammar enhance its individual character and beauty and in no way are to be considered flaws or defects. To: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 4:52:27 PMSubject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the

apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of

our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I

havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English

was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

JackieI never knew your background before. Your bio mom really lost out on knowing a wonderful daughter! love you SharonThis email is a natural hand made product. The slight variations in spelling and grammar enhance its individual character and beauty and in no way are to be considered flaws or defects. To: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 6:18:50 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

n you always have the most interesting stories, and what a great life you lived. and still are!

I never knew my biological mother. She gave me to my dad when I was 2, so she could go to Hollywood to become a movie actress. Never happened, she ended up in Texas, married many times, divorced, and an alcoholic. She died a few years ago with COPD. I only saw her once when I was 19, and then after I got married and had children she called a couple times a year, but other than that we never really bonded. I have her ashes here at home and thats about as close as I've been to her. I'm not quite sure what to do with them.

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I

remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not

been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday

morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that,

and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

How old were you when your father married the stepmom? SharonThis email is a natural hand made product. The slight variations in spelling and grammar enhance its individual character and beauty and in no way are to be considered flaws or defects. To: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 6:49:47 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

Ahh Akiba thanks. I think back on my life and it would make a good melodrama. I've worked thru a lot of it, and I suppose there was plenty to teach me, but sometimes I wonder if the reason I am so ill is because of how stressful my life was from baby on.....my step-mom [the one who made the pies] and I never got along. My dad never talked to me, and no one hugged or told me they loved me. I know that sounds so pitiful, but it caused me to shower my own children with an over abundance of hugs and kisses and telling them I loved them every day, so good came of something sad.

Hugs, Jackie

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying

peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I

remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not

been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday

morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that,

and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

Thank you for the link, n--our dear link lady! I was hoping to read something about how one could get 'tested' for this gene; perhaps I didn't read the article closely enough, but I couldn't find any information regarding that. I am SO very forgetful, of both past and present information and goings-on. My kids are forever telling me how they tell me things, and I just plum don't remember. So, I'm scared. I think next time I see my neuro (which should be in the next week or 2, as I haven't seen him since March 1) I'll ask him if there is some sort of testing to rule it in or out.Love to you n,and all our dear friends here; my second family!KateTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 7:41:19 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

http://www.genetichealth.com/ALZ_Genetics_of_Alzheimers_Disease.shtmlThank you, so very much, Kate (blushing color of my last name, "roses."Love to you all,nTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 4:18:26 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

What profound and touching memories you have. I LOVE the story from when you were 5; I never recall having read that before.Your mother taught you well, and you obviously gleaned much from her. Thank you for sharing the legacy that your mother left you.By the way, how did you find out that you don't carry the Alzheimer's gene? I'm very concerned that I may. My dad has it, though it is slowly (thank G*d) advancing. His short term memory is totally shot, but his long term still seems to be fairly intact.Thank you for sharing with us, n. I was especially moved by her passing. She lived a full, long life, and did in fact, get her desire granted--I too wish to go in my sleep; nothing finer than that!love to you our 'cyber mom',KateTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 6:52:27 PMSubject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has now died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the

apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of

our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I

havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table) and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English

was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that, and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

Expecting? Get great news right away with email Auto-Check.Try the Yahoo! Mail Beta.

[Guest guest]

Jackie,I'm so sorry you never really knew or bonded with your mom. This is so sad a story, I have tears in my eyes. Is there are favorite place that you know of that you could scatter her ashes. Too bad you're not close to Hollywood--that was a dream of hers'. Maybe that sounds like a bizarre answer to a sensible question. Did she have any siblings?Thinking of you my friend,gentle hugs,KateTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 8:18:50 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

n you always have the most interesting stories, and what a great life you lived. and still are!

I never knew my biological mother. She gave me to my dad when I was 2, so she could go to Hollywood to become a movie actress. Never happened, she ended up in Texas, married many times, divorced, and an alcoholic. She died a few years ago with COPD. I only saw her once when I was 19, and then after I got married and had children she called a couple times a year, but other than that we never really bonded. I have her ashes here at home and thats about as close as I've been to her. I'm not quite sure what to do with them.

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying

peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I

remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not

been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday

morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that,

and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n

[Guest guest]

I too, had no hugs or I love you's. One time when I was ill, really ill with 104 fever, I do recall my mom saying she loved me. I have gotten ill a lot since then, and I do feel it is linked to when my mom told me she loved me, and I wonder if I'll be loved again. Does that make any darn sense? Probably not.My kids get a lot of hugs and I love you's. Probably not as much as I should. Thanks for reminding me that I need to do that more.You sound like a brave, courageous woman to have worked through the events that took place in your life. I'm proud to know you!love, KateTo: MSersLife Sent: Wed, February 9, 2011 8:49:47 PMSubject: Re: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers here

Ahh Akiba thanks. I think back on my life and it would make a good melodrama. I've worked thru a lot of it, and I suppose there was plenty to teach me, but sometimes I wonder if the reason I am so ill is because of how stressful my life was from baby on.....my step-mom [the one who made the pies] and I never got along. My dad never talked to me, and no one hugged or told me they loved me. I know that sounds so pitiful, but it caused me to shower my own children with an over abundance of hugs and kisses and telling them I loved them every day, so good came of something sad.

Hugs, Jackie

Hugs, Jackie

Subject: on the death of one's mother, and in honor of all mothers hereTo: MSersLife Date: Wednesday, February 9, 2011, 3:52 PM

Akiba's Robbin is the best son--I think we do know why. . . . My own mother, whom my brothers and I did call "Mom," died at 101 + 1 month,in Santa Barbara, California, where my sister, the eldest child in our family.was living at the time; that sister has no died; died the year after our mother did.I had a difficult time explaining all that to my family; they kept asking whether itwas an automobile accident, or a fall, as everyone in our family, with rare exception, lives so long.I had been emotionally and intellectually prepared for my mother's demise,as she had severe Alzheimer's disease (I do not have that gene), and hadbeen fading steadily. The people at the residential facility where she wasfound her as they checked all the apartments each morning. They told methat my mother was found "lying

peacefully on her left side, with her foldedhands under her left cheek," the way I

remember her having slept for all thetime that I, the surprise 6th child, remembered her. They told me that she hadjust the beginning of a small, sweet smile on her face!It did not even dawn on me that they might not have phoned my sisterin Santa Barbara yet. . . until the kind lady said slowly and gently that"We thought that it might be better if she heard it from you." I declined,put my foot to the pedal, and asked them to notify my sister, and not evento discuss the fact that they had already notified me with my sister. Theyknew why. I assured them that I was on my way to Santa Barbara as oflate that afternoon.So, when the kids came home from work/school, and Hans came home,we all gathered ourselves into one of our cars and off we went---to Santa Barbara. The kids' first notion was that they would never heartheir grandmother play piano again, though she had not

been able to play in many years. Even Hans was a bit distraught. I remembered my mother's having said when I was a very young child,that she hoped that she would "go in my sleep," and I was just glad thatshe had gone in the manner for which she had hoped.My mother had smoked for years and had gone blind due to macular degeneration (common in smokers) years after she had quit. She hadbeen able to play the piano from memory and by ear until she was about93, and one day she attempted to play, realized that these were not the sounds that she had expected, and just gave it up.My own relationship with each of my parents, and with my siblings, wasrewarding and I have wonderful memories of each of our parents. I havepicked one to share, and if I have shared it before, I offer it for those whohave not read all my posts:I was about five years old, and it was a Saturday

morning. Mom had beena bit concerned that I was not as friendly with one of our neighbors as withothers nearby (each about three acres apart), so she sat me down and inclassic Sephardic Jewish fasion, put her hand on my forearm (this meansthat your arm is now "nailed" to the table and that what you are going to betold is very important.Mother said, "Dear, when you are out and about and you encounter others,your demeanor and comportment should be such that all persons whomyou might encounter shall feel the better for their having encountered you."So, I memorized this maternal bit of wisdom, nodded solemnly, and ran upstairs to my Dad's study, and blurted it out to him. Dad was a bit moredown home than Mom was, as English was not his second language.He turned to me and said, "Kid, listen to your Muthah; do what yourMuthah says." I have tried and am still trying to do just that,

and do doas he so often advised me as well (He was an attorney).Love to you all,n