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Mother—Poem and Comments at Funeral at Funeral of Janet B. Kerns
By Ellen L. Stevenson
We’re sure going to miss Mom, but I really feel at peace now. She always told me she wanted to die with her shoes on, and while she was in the hospital she developed foot dropsy—and they told me, “Go up and get her a pair of high-topped sneakers, and that would help.” So last week I had to go get her a pair of high-topped sneakers, and she died with her shoes on.
I can just picture her. I know she knew it was about time to go, and I knew, too. I had some whisperings, anyway. I didn’t want to listen to that, but it was.
I can just picture her when her spirit left her body, in her high-topped sneakers. I know she just skipped away from that body with Grampa McCornack, and was happy to leave it, because she figured it was wearing out, and she wanted to be able to climb cherry trees like she did this summer, and walk her dogs.
On the way back from La Grande, one day, while I’d been sitting by her bed I wrote a poem about her between tears. I call it “Mother.”
To comfort me when I was ill?
You gave all the strength and the love that you could,
But your greatest desire was God’s will.
You taught me to pray and to work and to love,
And great values our family holds dear;
Your sweet spirit so helps and encourages me,
That I know you will always be near.
And I know she will!