This will be my first mother's day without my mother. Mary died in late February of complications from an extended illness. She was 71. And I was not prepared. Or, rather, I see now that there is no way to be emotionally prepared for a parent's death (or anyone's death?).
My mother was a child of the American West: she grew up in Salt Lake City, exploring the Wasatch mountains with friends, raising goats with her neighbor, and getting into mischief at her Catholic boarding school. Her parents came from families that came to Salt Lake City looking for opportunity. Her dad's side immigrated in the early 1900's from northern Italy to work in the mining industry. Mary's mother's parents migrated from the southeast around the same time, living in Arkansas and Oklahoma before settling in Utah.
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| Mary (center) with two of her siblings. |
Mary went to Gonzaga University in Washington State, and told me stories of spending summers with her school friends working in cabbage fields in California to make money. She joined the Peace Corps and travelled to Afghanistan to teach English. After the Peace Corps she spent time living in New York (where she met Dieter), San Francisco, back in Salt Lake City (where Mary & Dieter got married), Berlin, and finally settling in the DC area (where my brother and I were born). She taught English as a second language for several decades, then worked as an school administrator for the County School System's ESOL program until she retired and moved to California to be near Molly & Clara (and me!).
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| Teaching in Afghanistan |
Woven through all this are tales of mischief, tragedy, adventure, creativity, and love. So much love. Love for her from other people, and love for others from her. None of us are perfect, but Mary's continued perseverance in the face of difficulty, and the love and joy she radiated to those around her is what stays with me. In spite of her decades of struggle, and numerous tragedies, Mary was a bright spot for many people, including me. I had a front-row seat to watching her struggle, and a front-row seat to being inspired by her strength, beauty, and amazing kindness and love.
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| bringing joy through music |
Universally, the people who have reached out to me after Mary's death have told me stories of how she brought them love and joy. From simple stories of neighbors who recalled talking to her as she gardened in her front yard, to old friends and colleagues who told me stories of the care she took with her students and co-workers.
Processing her death for me has been buoyed by amazing support from family, friends and neighbors, and complicated by an evolving relationship with my brother brother. The relationship with my father has grown deeper as we navigated the last moths with Mary and the first months without her. I am deeply thankful for this. Sadly, my relationship with my brother has grown more limited and distant as we react very differently to the loss of our mother. I hope time will heal us both.
Mary loved deeply, was loved deeply, and is missed even more deeply, but I know now that she will be remembered by those who knew her and has made the world a better place. And that is quite an inspiration.
As always, I promise (and hope to fulfill this promise!) more pictures of my mother from over the years. But today I want to post pictures of her in her mother role. She was much more than just my mother, but in honor of this holiday, here she is supporting me through the years.
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| the family at my college graduation |
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| the family at my grad school graduation |
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| Nouri Sofi Mary |
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| Sofi Mary Nouri |
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| Sofi Mary Nouri |
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| Sofi Mary |
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| Nouri Mary Sofi |
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| Sofi Mary Nouri in Yellowstone |
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| Dancer Sofi Mary at Meadowbrook Horse Show |
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| Sofi Mary |
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| Mary with grandkids and Franklins at Family Camp |
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| Clara Mary Molly |
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| Molly Clara Mary in her garden |
