Rita Cecilia Martin Snow

Today is the 76th anniversary of my mother's birth.  She was a country girl, growing up on a farm outside Fairfax, Iowa.  She was the oldest daughter of seven children.  After high school, she went to Mt. Mercy College of Nursing.  She spent her entire career as a nurse.  As long as I could remember, at St. Lukes Hospital in Cedar Rapids in the NICU.  She took care of sick babies.
In 1959, she married my dad, Bob Snow.  I will forever wonder what kind of rabbit's foot my dad carried to get the likes of my mom.  Now, my dad was a good looking guy.  But my mom was stunning.  She was of dark hair and porcelain skin.  Photos of my mom from the late fifties would have rivaled any Hollywood starlet.  And such style. 
As a child, I would hang out in her room as she would get ready.  Her dresser was a department store counter of bottles and jars.  Her jewelry box, a treasure trove of clip on earrings and saint medallions and old watches.  She used powder, a lost art these days, and had a huge pink powder puff.  When she put panty hose on, she would put on a pair of white gloves first so she wouldn't put a run in them.  I remember playing with the garters, having no idea what they were, just clipping all that I could find together to make a long garter hook rope. 
Mom had weight issues.  I don't clearly remember how heavy she was, but I remember dieting often.  When I was little, before I went to kindergarten, we would have lunch together.  I would have something like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich but my mom would have something exotic, cottage cheese on a bed of lettuce.  Sometimes she would add a pineapple slice or tomato slice.  Now I realize that this doesn't sound exotic but imagine, to a five year old, a bed of lettuce followed by a thinly sliced pineapple and then topped with a cup of cottage cheese that was formed to the cup.  So it was the magazine photo lunch! 
Times changed and  I was a shitty teen age daughter.  I missed out on so much with my mom because neither one of us understood they other.  Just when I was starting to be a civilized person again, I got married and moved away.  I missed my mom as a grandma and my mom missed me as an adult.  When I was living near her, she was getting sick.  By 2004, she no longer knew me. 
The moments I do have with her though are incredible to me.  She thought I was a good mom.  That meant and means the world to me.  She was proud of the way that Danny and I raised our family.  She would be thrilled with the way Ashlyn, Hayley and Jacob turned out.  When we moved into our house in Cedar Rapids in 1999, Mom was there to help me unpack the kitchen boxes. 
Mom died in April of 2006.  Her death was unexpected but welcomed.  The Alzheimer's had taken her from us.  She spent her life saying her prayers so that she could live in Heaven with her mom and dad.  I knew that that is where she went.  My tears were more of joy than sorrow.  I knew she had gone home and more importantly, I knew that she knew me again and could celebrate my children's lives. 
The following winter my dad had to have heart surgery.  When he was returned to his room and we could go in to see him, my mom was there.  There was no doubt about that.  The attending nurse had the same mannerisms as my mom, but it was more than that.  She was there.  It has been the only time that I really felt her presence. 
Years later when Ashlyn got sick, my mom was the first person I talked to.  I could think of no one else that would be able to take care of my little girl better than my mom.  I would watch the nurses hands and imagine my mom's hands guiding the medicine.  Every gentle touch came from her.  I considered Ashlyn very fortunate to have her very own nurse on staff twenty four hours a day.
My mom was many wonderful things.  An amazing cook and baker, I have never had a piece of apple pie better than hers.  A loyal sister and friend.  A devoted wife to a very lucky guy!  A really good mom who loved us and took care of us.  She just didn't have any tolerance for us mucking things up when she was in the kitchen.  Most of all, she was a devote Catholic that, to my knowledge, never wavered in her faith.  I think her faith was her greatest gift to me. 
Happy Birthday, Mom.  I am honored to be your daughter.  Keep an eye on us all as we go about our lives and know that you are never far from my thoughts. 
Love you,
Anne
Happy Birthday Mom!!!   I love you very much.  I know that you are having a wonderful time at Home. 
Love you always, Anne