Eulogy for Mom

Julia Frances (Powell) Williams

I am Julias 4th child, Gwen, and I want to share some thoughts about my Mom.
Mom was born in 1928, the 2nd daughter of Earl and Elsie Powell, their first child
being Maxine, Moms sister and closest lifelong friend. Mom was a Minneapolis
girl and she graduated from West High School in 1946. Moms first job was
working as a soda-jerk at a neighborhood drugstore and as a young woman in her
20s, she worked as a typist and clerk for Northwestern Mutual Insurance.
Mom would always say of her younger life that Maxine was the one with the
boyfriends and Mom, well, she was just a tomboy and that boys seemed mostly
interested in just being buddies. As a young girl who was quite the tomboy myself, I
was always keenly interested in hearing my Mom describe herself that way! For as
one of the kids from the Kumquat Street neighborhood recently reminded me, until
her late 40s, Mom always wore a dress and bobby socks no matter what she was
doingwalking to Jensens grocery store, visiting with other neighbors (the adults!),
weeding the garden, or running her Cub Scout pack or Brownie pack through their
activities, songs, and badges. Mom also always wore red lipstickDad called it her
warpaintand always had her hair done: she had thick, lovely brunette hair
straight as a board if not for the pin curls and perms shed give herself. Looking
back, I realize this part of Moms life was not only the style for women at the time
but also because she was married to the best looking man in Minnesotamy Dad,
Leonard.
My Mom and Dad met at an Arthur Murray Dance School dance in December
1952. It was somewhat mysterious to me as a child to think about my Mom, Dad,
Arthur, and ballroom dancing because, well, the two of them were Mom and Dad.
Although one day after Fern and I had finished jumping on Mom and Dads bed
and had finished rifling through Moms jewelry box to find clip-on earrings to wear,
we discovered open-toed strapped heels all covered in silver glitter among some
boxes Mom kept in her bedroom closet: the dancing shoes! I think Fern clomped
around in those amazing and sparkly shoes until Mom came in from hanging
laundry and busted us.
It was hard to get anything past Mom. Just when you thought she was too busy
canning peaches, making pickles, or browning ground beef on the stove to notice
the enormous holes you were digging in the backyard, she would suddenly appear
in a colorful apron, holding a spatula and dishtowel and put a stop to your
shenanigans. She was a fantastic Mom, that grown-up tomboy. Friends around the
neighborhood would tell you how cool she was, and how niceand they have
recently reminded us of how fondly they thought of my Mom. How they always
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felt welcomed in her home and remember her as kind, good-hearted, sweet, a
special presence in their lives.
My Mom had very expressive and intense hazel eyes. You always knew the
emotions my Mom was feeling by the way she looked you in the eye, long, deep,
steady. You could get the most amazing feeling of exuberanceusually followed
by laughterwhen Mom was joyful, playful, and maybe even mischievous. She
might also be singing a song or humming a tune, might cluck you under the chin,
or say that you looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
I think Moms yearning for joy became even more intense after my Dad passed
away and she found herself, a young widow 52 years old, facing an immense, lifechanging sorrow. None of us will know that sorrowful, lamenting experience she
had, although we were witnesses to her grief and were nearly consumed in our
own ways by Dads death. But during this time in Moms life, her joys took on a
different, deeper, resonating character.
And her devotion to her children and grandchildren continued as the amazing,
sweet, and wonderful experiences they had always been. Mom still would walk
into the living room, find one of us sitting alone on the couchall other chairs
empty, ample room on the other end of the couchand she would sit down so
close, right next to you, squeezed in tight like there was a crowd in the room and
no other place to sit even though it was just you and her in the whole room. You
might be reading or watching TV or just sitting and soon this sitting so close to
Mom kind of became this snuggling or cuddling, just being there touching. Mom
would always listen intently to whatever you might like to express, pause, sigh,
reply, speak with gusto or calmness depending on the conversations subject, and
then listen again. They were wonderful moments in our everyday lives.
In May of 2005, when Mom was 76 years old, she got on a plane and flew to visit
Tahir and me in south Florida. When Mom visited us, she had not yet been
diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia, but at that time, her doctors had thought she
had Parkinsons disease based on her declining motor skills. So it meant a lot to us
that she had traveled alone to see us. We had a wonderful time looking at
alligators in a state park and walking along Fort Lauderdale Beach. We also spent a
couple days in Key West. In Key West we partied on the famous boardwalk with
amazing acrobats and jugglers and musicians and a gorgeous view of the Gulf of
Mexico. We also went to the Hemingway House and the historical Civil War era
fort, Fort Martello. The forts tower had an interior twisting, spiral iron staircase of
about 35 steps vertical, which you needed to climb in order to see the whole tower
and to look out over the ocean. Well before I knew it Tahir had asked and Mom
had eagerly agreed that she wanted to climb the stairs up into the tower. Going up,
Mom led with Tahir spotting her the whole way and me, I came up the rear hauling
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purses and water bottles. Going down, Mom balanced her hands on Tahirs
shoulders and he sort of piggy-backed her down. Wow she loved navigating that
spiral staircase and said with delight, Wait till I tell them in Minnesota about this.
We all laughed.
Along the south side of Key West, there runs a long stretch of public beach where
you can look at the coral reef and the Atlantic Ocean. We found a bench facing
the water and sat for a good long spell. Our large floppy hats protected us from the
sun. Sitting close together, we just dwelled quietly on the magnificent ocean with
no end.
Mom was a remarkable and strong woman. She lived a long life86 years. I am
awed by her abiding presence. Compassionate, kind, good-natured, a boundless
reservoir of giving.
That oceanimmense, deep, beautiful beyond wordsthat was my Mom Julia.

Gwen Williams, 7 April 2015

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