The following is what I wrote and read at our family memorial for Mom last October. I wish you could have been there but if you weren't, here ya go.

The End

A long slow goodbye. The last few years were so strange, losing mom bit by bit. Grief building in increments. Conversations becoming more difficult and then gone. It has been a very long time since we had a “normal” conversation. I could see recognition in her eyes but that faded as well. I have been missing her for some time now. I would like to believe that she knew it was time to let go and not linger for all of our sakes. But I don’t want to dwell on the end.

 The Beginning

So, in the beginning, my beginning anyway, because that’s all I know. In 1957, mom was seventeen. Her groom, Allen, was nineteen. At some point over the next few years she decided it was not right. She was unhappy and when she got pregnant that was it. It took real strength to divorce my dad, and his very large Mormon family, she was only 20. Her diminutive stature and gentle nature belied her strength. It was the best thing she could have done for both of us. I thanked her for her wise decision many times over the years. Easily one of the most profound left turns of our lives, certainly mine. She protected me, always. So for most of my first four years she was a single parent. With her own mother as an example, she knew she could do it. Fortunately help was on the way and late in 1963 she married Otto. Two years later, Greg was born and we were a family of four happily residing in Fountain Valley. I can not overstate how important her choice to leave my dad was. I can’t imagine what life would have been like if she had stayed and we tried to fit into the Hodges family framework.

 There were, of course, many things she did and said that helped me become the person I am today. When I was in fourth grade I already had a record of being the class clown, inattentive and probably a little bored. Mrs. Wheeler wasn’t having any of it. We didn’t like each other very much. I can still see her sour old lady face scowling at me. One night after report cards had come home, mom took me aside to talk. Not sure why we were in the entry way of our house, but when I looked into her face she was sobbing. “You have so much potential” she said. “You can do better”. I’m sure there were more but those are the words I remember. She wasn’t angry. She was disappointed, sad and maybe a little frightened that I was going to continue to be a screw up. Disappointing her was painful. She deserved more from me. There were many more mediocre grades over the next 14 years but she set me on a better path. 

 In 1975 she struck a deal with me. One Sunday morning I was looking thru the Calendar section of the LA Times and there it was, a full page ad, Alice Cooper’s Welcome to my Nightmare tour was coming to the Forum for two nights that Summer. Mom had been saying for years now that I could go to concerts when I turned 16. I was a fifteen year old freshman at FVHS. She knew how much I loved Alice Cooper so she offered that if I joined a team at school next year I could go. Neither of us at the time realized what a stroke genius this was. I had nothing going on. Go to school, come home, hang out with Mike Murphy and repeat. So I decided to join the swim team my sophomore year. Six years and three great coaches later I had learned so much about myself. How to commit, put in the work, to compete and succeed. Mom was my biggest fan and cheerleader. Swimming changed my life on so many levels. So I credit her for that significant transformative time in my life. Alice gets a teeny bit of credit.

 Her need for more intellectual stimulation and a new vibrant environment led her back to school. But her push forward exposed cracks in the foundation of her relationship with Otto and ultimately they split. So she was on her own again, but it wasn’t long before Bob knocked on her door and invited her to dine at the Bouzy Rouge. The rest, of course, we know very well. The next 37 years of her life they would enjoy new places, friends and challenges. If she was seeking more she certainly found it. More family, more love and more peaceful contentment. Thank you Bob for giving mom so much joy and happiness.

 Music

One thing we shared over the years was a love of music. I wouldn’t say mom was passionate about it but she had good taste and I credit her for instilling in me a deep appreciation for music. Of course I don’t remember what was playing in our apartment in Orange or the tiny cottage in Newport. I do remember album covers from the early sixties by Ray Charles, the Righteous Bros., the Beatles and of course Sinatra. Later, when Otto and mom married, he brought a love of Jazz to the mix. One of my earliest memories from the house in Newport is of her and Otto getting me out of bed to see the Beatles on the news performing at the Hollywood Bowl. I was four. It’s a fine line between inspired parenting and abuse. 

 I would imagine most moms in the early seventies might have been alarmed hearing what was coming out of my room. Not mom, she had a good ear. She was not frightened by Alice Cooper or Black Sabbath. Sometimes she would ask what it was she heard me listening to. The one artist she seemed most intrigued by was David Bowie. So in 1983 we were able to take her to see him at the Fabulous Forum. She didn’t know all the songs but we enjoyed it immensely. Twenty one years later, we took her to see his last tour at the Shrine auditorium.

 Lately I have been searching YouTube for Bowie from one of the tours we went to and I found a tribute he did to John Lennon (another favorite of hers). It was a show from the Serious Moonlight tour that we saw at the Forum. December 8th the anniversary of our favorite Beatles death. He spoke at length and then sang “Imagine”. How did I not know about this before? I would have loved to share it with her? 

 Laughter

One of my favorite things in life used to be making mom laugh. She set the table with a cynical, sarcastic wit and loose boundaries. She did not mince words. Murph used to call her the “Silver Tongued Devil”. Otto, during one of the more interesting conversations we had in the late 70’s said “All you have to do is make her laugh”. It wasn’t advice. I can still hear her laughter ringing thru the house whenever they would get together with the Owens, the Cronns, the Murphy’s and later the “Hammys”. For some reason the laughter seemed to get louder as the night wore on.

 I really miss talking with her. Our relationship was as much intellectual as it was emotional. Her quest for knowledge and understanding took her far scholastically and lead to her own practice helping others. She inspired us to never accept the “norm” without a good hard look. To question authority and consider better alternatives. To keep an open mind and always try to be kind while remaining true to ourselves. We didn’t always agree but her wise liberal perspective certainly shaped my opinions on a wide range of social issues. It was always a bit dicey getting into it with her because I felt that she had probably looked deeper into most things than I had. She was always a better student than I.

 As I said before, I have been missing her for a long time now. I miss the witty banter. The laughter. Sitting around a table sharing food and wine with her and Bob. I miss how she would look at me with such unconditional love and think of me as much more than I probably deserve. It recently occurred to me that there was no shit between us. Sure, there were times when I upset her but no lingering discord, ever. No drama or angst. She understood and accepted me as I am which led to joyful time when we could be together. I miss that bond that was so intuitive that often words were not necessary. If we are lucky in life we seek and create those kinds of bonds and start families of our own. I feel lucky, I have three. I was so fortunate and feel so grateful to have been raised and loved by our most precious mom.

Brett

Mom,

     When I think about celebrating you I’m not sure we have enough free time to do you honors!  It seems like I have spent the last 50 years of my life making another one of those home-made Mother’s Day cards on Mother’s Day that says “You’re the best Mom in the world and I’m the luckiest boy in the world.”  But it’s true and always will be.  I can’t feel sorry about anything now because nothing is left empty.  Everything is full.  Everything is overflowing between you and I.  Our relationship is complete.

     One of the coolest memories I have from the early days is going to Mommy and Me swim classes with you at Fountain Valley High School.  At some point in each class I would get to say “Mommy you have mud in your eye!”  Your mascara was running.  We laughed so much and thought it was so funny even though it became predictable.  We spent so much time together as I grew up and you had so much time to devote to Brett and I on Nightingale.  

     My Mom taught me so many things, intentional or not.  Like how to listen to others and be present.  How to be in the moment.  How to be considerate of others' feelings and how to express my own.  How to speak your truth.  And how to have fun by just people watching somewhere, anywhere there are people!

     My Mom moved away from traditional religion early in life but was a very spiritual person.  She loved symbolic gestures and especially loved letting the power of nature nurture her in uncertain times.  She loved how insignificant her life’s problems seemed in the face of a large and powerful, awe inspiring Pacific Ocean.  In my early 20’s a friend of mine Rich started having meditation classes at his house in Huntington.  Mom and Bob started coming and his classes really influenced her in her spiritual life and in her therapy and groups she held.  Up until her last days she could be seen taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, and exhaling slowly to relax.

     My Mom was a student, a teacher, a friend, a therapist, an activist, a lover of life and of love, and of course a Mom.  But I like to remember her mostly for her writing.  She was a true wordsmith and loved reading and especially writing.  Another thing she passed on to me.  She had several letters published in the L.A. Times, and wrote several columns for monthly publications in Seattle and Lompoc and was a prolific journal writer and keeper.  She was the master of the small, thoughtful gesture and loved popping a postcard in the mail with a few insightful thoughts just letting me know she was thinking of me.  We were life long pen pals.

     Over the last five or six years we all slowly lost our Mom, our Pam.  I loved the little lady she became and was amazed at how she kept being her sweet lovely person as she went through that process.  The last time I saw her I told her how proud I was of her for fighting for so long. I didn’t know she had that kind of inner strength but she did. Just two years ago she said “Half the stuff I say is made up anyway so I might as well have fun!”  The same could be said for any of us here today. 

      I loved that little lady but now that she is gone from this physical plane I finally have my Original Mom back. The Room Mother, the Team Mom, the ultimate believer of me and relentless supporter who loved me unconditionally with so much patience.  I have back my dynamic Mom who went back to school in her Forties, and followed and became her own self-actualized self. 

     She made human relationships the focus of her life because she knew how important it is to live a happy life.  To be happy in your life by having good relationships with those in your life. So she would listen.  Her trade was plying the depths of the human emotional experience.  She loved the idea of following your heart and did so in her own life.  She had evolved through her own therapy and couldn’t wait to share that loving experience with others.  She wanted to help change peoples’ lives through her work and did so for over 30 years.

     That is the Mom I carry with me now.  The caring and gentle soul Pam.  The beautiful, funny, and always smiling Pam.  The successful therapist and always present Mom who loved and lived each day to it’s fullest.  One of my Mom’s favorite sayings later in life was “This Too Shall Pass.”  She admired the idea of letting things go and the peace it can bring within.  The pain of losing our Mom, our Pam, may at times pass but her caring and ever loving spirit will be with us forever.  And one of my Mom’s favorite things to do was to watch the sunset at the beach while the pelicans drafted over the waves.  If you go down there you won’t see her, but she’s around. She’s still out there.  She’s the one listening without a sound.

     Thank You Mom.  I Love You.

     Gregory David

                            XO