My dear old mom died in hospice in Penticton on Tuesday. She’d come home from hospital on December 1^st and I tried to take care of her at home but it wasn’t possible. So on Friday she was taken to hospice where she felt very comfortable and cared for. I visited her every day and we had good conversations.

However by Monday she was already much weaker and more tired and when I arrived on Tuesday she was already in a very deep sleep, unable to be awakened. I sat by her bed and told her dad, granny, grampa, Freddie, Twig, they’re all waiting for you. I imagined that final scene in Titanic when the old woman dies and she is greeted at the Grand Staircase by Leo DiCaprio and other passengers who had died.

I was a physical and emotional wreck for the time leading up to mom’s passing, but once it occurred I felt a tremendous calm come over me. Mom was nearly 101, not able to do anything and very much wanted out of life. She’d accomplished her goal, and I was very happy for her.

I’ve written an obituary which will certainly go into the local Osoyoos Oliver Times Chronicle. But I was shocked it’d be nearly $1000 for the Province/Sun and much more for the Globe and Mail. But it’s as Penny said, you want Jean Chretien to read about mom’s passing. So I guess I have to bite the bullet and submit it to that paper for sure.

And this is the most pared-down version of an obituary I could write due to mom’s endless list of accomplishments. I had to omit the Queen’s Silver, Gold and Diamond Jubilee Medals, as well all that she did for the Town of Osoyoos. She was one of the pioneers, arriving in 1939 when she said there were still wooden sidewalks.

I worked for mom in her fruit stand, as did several of my friends over the years. I remember one morning when it was still a bit chilly, we had put sweaters on over our tank tops and shorts. Mom saw that and said “Get those sweaters off. Tourists don’t want to see people cold.” She allowed us to go out and stand in the sun as a compromise.

My friend Ron said he thinks of Mom every time he’s in a restaurant and the server removes a plate before all of the people have finished eating. He was fortunate enough to experience that in person when mom had to explain to a server that’s very bad manners. Mom’s made a lasting impression on so many people.

Those of us who know mom have all had your clothing re-arranged for you. She’d unbutton or button a shirt, depending on the aesthetic she was trying to achieve with your look. Sometimes she might come up, remove your scarf, and saying “That looks a hundred times better.” Mom was the arbiter of how an outfit should look.

She always looked fabulous and was an incredible sewer, knitter and crocheter. Mom’d buy a Vogue magazine, find a pattern of something similar, then fashion a very au courant outfit in which I’d parade around in high school. Mom could’ve been a couturier seamstress or perhaps have had her own fashion house had she not gotten stuck in Canada in 1939 when the war broke out.

Mom made the best of being separated from her parents at the age of 14. She lived with her aunt and uncle August and Anna Pfingsttag until she married my dad Fred Schiller at the age of 20. Freddie was born the following year, and I arrived (surprise!) eight years later.

Mom and Dad had an orchard where Mom would pitch in to help with picking. She said in the summers it’d be so hot the peaches would ripen by the hour so she and Dad would go out and pick all night and Freddie would come out in his nightgown in the morning looking for them.

Mom spent winters hunkered down in the basement sewing and watching the black and white T.V. In the summer she was the intrepid fruit stand owner who arrived by 6:00 AM and often stayed until 10:00 PM for three months of the year. Finally after about twenty years mom packed that in and soon had a job at Statistics Canada.

She had a yellow Pinto with no air conditioning that she drove all over southwestern B.C. drawing maps for the federal government. For fun she was involved in the Liberal party running as an MLA but being defeated, organizing a huge arts festival called Okanagan Image, and being appointed to various arts councils.

Dad was almost 19 years older than Mom, and after he died Gerry Bruck moved in with Mom. They were 77 and 87 years old when that happened which I thought was so adorable. Instead of children they adopted a poodle pup that had to make decisions and basically be the boss of the three of them. Mom and Gerry lived together until his death at the age of 98.

Mom’s last ten years were okay in that she continued to pound back litres of wine and dozens of chocolate bars and could largely get around with her walker. However, the past year saw a sharp decline and this past week Mom said she was completely ready to die. Every nurse coming and going from her room heard, “Can’t you just give me a shot? I want a shot.” You know Mom.

Mom had children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, two partners, travelled the Earth, had a lot of friends, enjoyed stimulating employment and volunteering, so for me it’s a celebration of life when someone at mom’s age dies after having lived such a full and wonderful life. She didn’t want a memorial as we had had a 100^thyear celebration coinciding with my 70^th birthday last year which she said was it.

In the spring I’ll invite the four grandchildren and six greatgrandchildren to joint me in scattering mom’s ashes which was her wish. Good-bye, Mom, we all wish you a speedy journey. Jan and I in particular wish this as Jan is now scared to go into Mom’s house alone as she alleges there’s a ghost in there. I will be sleeping there so, just saying.