Pam was many
things to many people. To me, she was my mom. And she was the BEST. The literal
definition of mother is a noun meaning “a female who has given birth to
offspring”. But, my mom gave me so much more than just life. She gave me
physical things like her prematurely gray hair and her chubby little sausage
toes. She also gave me intangible things like her love of chocolate-covered
raisins, the ability to cry at the drop of a hat - sometimes less – and her love
of chick flicks – especially Gone with
the Wind and Somewhere in Time that
we watched for our monthly “chick-flick nights” growing up.
Mom gave me drive
and determination. She taught me to reach for my dreams by reaching for hers,
no matter how hard or what obstacles where in her way. Getting up before dawn
to deliver hundreds of newspapers every day – rain, shine, snow or holidays –
to get through college. Hours of frustrated late-night studying at the kitchen
table while I helped her figure out first Algebra and later Chemistry. Enough hours
that she gave me and Denice credit for helping get her degree when she
graduated. She loved being a Nurse.
I watched her work hard every day to become one; then watched her love it every
day she did it until she couldn’t do it anymore. I still remember being annoyed
that she’d sign all my school papers and notes with “Pam Ruoti, RN”. Now I know
it’s just who she was. Her being a nurse gave me the ability to talk about
anything and everything and still be able to eat, which comes in more handily
than you may think, and to talk about and understand things in the clinical
realm – or at least know enough to fake it till I make it. I remember late
night visits to the hospital to see her while she was working; sitting at the
nurse’s station with her and all her friends hearing stories and laughing –
back before HIPPA of course. Most fond were the visits I made while pregnant
with my oldest so we could both hear the fetal heartbeat – just because we
could. From my earliest days she told me that anything I wanted to do I could
do. She told all of us that; and as adults we’re all successful at doing the
things that we love because she showed us it was possible. Not everyone can say
that.
She gave me the
knowledge of how to live life to the fullest on my own terms. She did what she
wanted and how she wanted to do it. Always. She was the most stubborn woman I
ever met but what I wouldn’t give for her to roll her eyes at me one more time.
Or shrug at my logical reasons why what she wanted didn’t make sense while she
stood her ground with her grin. She fought my Dad for months – perhaps longer –
about putting an ugly satellite dish on her house just because she didn’t like
how it would look. She cared a bit more about what people thought than I do,
but the basics of who I am came from watching her be who she was. Mom was
always up for something fun and loved to take any suggestion and run with it.
You mentioned you wanted to go on a trip? She was planning it. A friend
suggested a cruise? She was on the phone with the travel agency and made it
happen. Impromptu scrapbooking session? Yes please. Anything fun, she wanted in
on it. I’m sure she was wilder than she let on in her younger years. After all,
she met Dad dragging State Street – and he had a motorcycle. I remember my
in-between years, no longer a child but not quite an adult, coming home after
curfew (because I’ve never followed the rules) and her saying “what would the
neighbors think?” To which I would reply “if they’re up watching to see when I
come home then we have bigger problems.” No matter what time I did come home,
she would be there on the couch waiting to talk to me, just glad I was home
safe. Our late night talks are probably the real reason I’m still such a night
owl.
Mom gave me the
love of reading. She always had a book and never stopped reading. Her Nook is
still charged and ready, next to her favorite chair. She forbade me to read
Stephen King when I found an abandoned book one morning on the paper route. Being
as stubborn as she was, of course I read it. And every year after that she gave
me a hard-cover copy of whatever his latest book was for Christmas – because she
knew I loved it and that was all that mattered. She’d probably hate knowing
that I stole her romance novels long before it would have been appropriate for
me to read them, but I would argue she shouldn’t have left them lying around.
One of the few regrets I have is never letting her read any of my own writing.
I always assumed one day she would have the chance to read something when it
was ‘good enough’ to be published. I was wrong. ‘Some day’ is never promised –
a lesson I’ve learned well.
She gave birth to
four offspring in total. Every one of us had a special relationship with her
because she always put us and Dad first. I used to be a huge brat and said I
wished I was an only child. But, she knew better. After I matured into
adulthood I knew it was better that we had a big family and wouldn’t trade any
of them for the world. Most days. She gave us the best childhood and surrounded
us with cousins who were my first and best friends – many of them still are.
She also gave us a close family who did things together. A lot of things. And
she was always planning the next thing. Whether it was camping, Disneyland, weekends
in Saint George or Las Vegas, cruises or just an evening to celebrate a
birthday it was important and she made it happen. My entire life is filled with
memories that include my family because she valued family the most. Family also included her son and
daughters in law. For the last twenty years, she was the loving mother my
husband had lacked his whole life. She embraced him, and accepted him as her
own, simply because he loved me. Family just meant family. And in many cases,
the lines were blurred with close friends we all called family. She just knew
people mattered and acted accordingly every day of her life. No matter who you
were.
I am the mother,
wife and friend I am because of the example she showed me every day. I watched her do selfless and thoughtful
things for others every opportunity she had and learned from her. I still
remember her telling me I was her best friend. I wonder if she told all of her
friends that, like I tell all my nieces and nephews that they are my favorite
and mean it. One year in junior high,
for my birthday she found a random friend in every single class that day to
give me a present she provided. Many of them I was certain she wouldn’t know.
Just so feeling special on my special day lasted all day. I still don’t know
how she did it; and now I’ll never know. By example, she taught me the value of
forgiveness, and that friendship was more important than any grudge you could
hold, no matter how justified. She would do anything for anyone in need. She
always listened to us and knew just the right thing to give as a gift at
Christmas to make us the happiest. She was the epitome of ‘giving is more
important than receiving’. Maybe that’s why it was her favorite holiday. Over
the years, I watched her cultivate and maintain her own friendships – many that
transcended the years between meetings and others that lasted more than my lifetime.
She was surrounded by people she loved and who she touched just by being her.
She had an infectious smile and it was hard not to have fun when she was
around.
Lastly, she gave
me love. Her love was unapologetic and unconditional. She loved with her whole
heart and wasn’t afraid to show people exactly how she felt. So many times I’d
meet someone new and they would say it was like they already knew me because
she was always talking about her family. As long as we were together, she was
happy. If there was Disneyland involved, she was even happier. She was the most
supportive grandma to her grandkids and I know it pained her when she was too
sick to attend every activity in her final years.
I had my own brush
with death in 2011 that gave me new perspective on how fragile life is. As
frightening as it was, I would never trade the experience because it reminded
me to slow down and live in the moment; to appreciate every minute by living it
fully. The last couple of years when Mom’s health deteriorated enough she
wasn’t able to do many of the things she loved anymore, we started going to
dinner on Friday nights with her and Dad. It was a small thing, we usually went
out anyway (because who wants to cook when you’ve worked all week?) and it
didn’t take much just to invite them to come with us. After a while, it became
a little private tradition and for the last year my girls just expected Grandma
and Pa to be there for our Friday night outings. In hindsight I will cherish
that, amidst my own crazy life, I got the chance to spend so much every-day
time with her before she was gone. None of us expected her disease would take
her so quickly, but after watching her slowly decline for several years, I take
comfort in knowing she isn’t suffering anymore. I watched her use her last
ounce of strength to kiss my dad goodbye, and tell us all she loved us. I will
cherish that memory – maybe more than any of the rest. I’ll think of her when I
hear the wind rustling the leaves on the trees, or when I smell the damp earth
after it rains – and probably a million other times. She leaves a legacy in all
those she knew and touched. She was one amazing woman and I will miss her every
day.
I love you Mom, and I thank you. For
everything.
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