Day 10
Post Ten:
Shortly after my mother’s death on Tuesday, June 20th, I was at a family campground in the Sierra Nevada when my sister Karen left me a text message at 5:30 a.m. to call her. The connectivity up at the camp is not so good, but a friend from our tent circle with enough bars let me use his phone.
When I reached Karen, she told me that our mother had died in her sleep that morning. In recent years, my mother was getting older and older and more and more frail. Every time I would leave her home in Los Gatos after a visit, I privately pondered whether or not it would be the last time I would see her. So I was surprised at the emotion welling up in me as Karen told me the news—I began sobbing and could barely get all of the details from her. I have wondered what that was all about, as I knew, like everyone, that she would die. Death is an indelible fact of life.
Many people say that fear is most often related to not knowing. In my case, I think that my sobbing when I heard the news of my mother having died was a sort of release from fear—I was finding my ground. Those fears were just below the surface before my mother’s death, and they bubbled up when I heard the news.
Growing up, for whatever reason, I never really learned how to share my emotions, or how to cope with them. As a child, I mistakenly thought that it was better (and perhaps safer) to keep them in check as a part of the “inner self”. However, I have discovered in my adult life that sharing is the key to coping. That is why I decided to write the stories about my mother when the opportunity presented itself.
There is a lot to the expression, “May her memory be a blessing”, which several of my Jewish friends sent to me when my mother died. Our Porter family memories of both our mother and father endure, and we were all lucky to have had our parents (and grandparents) in our lives for such a long time.
Thank you to my friend from childhood, Emily. She had nominated me to share a photo a day that “gives you joy”. Although I broke the rules for the challenge, I have benefited personally from writing the stories, finding the photos, and sharing with you on Facebook. I hope that you have enjoyed them as much as I the writing. Thanks for looking through the window of Rhoda Ann (Bensberg) Porter’s life!
Finally, five days before what would have been her 106th birthday, I share with you a poem with which you are most likely familiar. I know it was one of our mother’s favorites, as in her younger years, she could recite it by heart—she must have had a good teacher of English at Los Gatos High School:
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
Lord Byron
Mom, you will missed but not forgotten…
Love,
Kent
NOTE: All photographs today were taken of our mother in her recent years. She showed remarkable longevity and endurance. Also included is an image of Rhoda Porter’s obituary which is slated to appear in the San Jose Mercury this Sunday.
Early 2019, sitting on the patio in the chair that her grandfather TA Hoover invented and crafted sometime between 1925 and 1935
On her deck that looks out over her cherished San Tomas/Hume Canyon
In her kitchen
With Linda Lockhart at Saratoga Grammar School reunion
Rhoda at her 104th birthday celebration at Kent's and Cyndi's new home in North Oakland, July, 2021
Rhoda Porter—July 12, 1917 to June 20, 2023
Link to obituary that appeared on July 9th, 2023, three days before what would have been Rhoda's 106th birthday.
