My mother passed away on December 18th and in that profound loss I was tasked to write a speech for her memorial service. I trashed several drafts before I came up with this.

79 years and nine months. 698,600 hours. 41,916,000 minutes.

In this past week since Mom’s passing, I’ve been trying to come up with what to say.  How do you sum up the most important person in your life? That woman who brought you into this world, nursed and clothed you, kept you fed, cared for you when you were sick, and tried to mold you into a good person. Is it possible to put 2,514, 960,000 moments into words?

No. There is no way I can begin to express the billions of moments of her life. All I can do is share a bit of what she meant to me.

Even though she was just seventeen when I was born Mom did all those things that mothers were supposed to do. She made sure I brushed my teeth and ate my vegetables, and she would, no matter how friggin long I had to sit at the table. Even if there were, yuck, lima beans on the plate. She sent me to school and amazing camps. She put me through college and was a wonderful support when it came my time to be a mother.

But what makes me smile most when I think about Mom is how she loved music and dance. For as long as I can remember, our home was filled with the sounds of rock and roll. Jerry Lee Lewis. Fats Domino. The Everly Brothers. And of course, the King, Elvis Presley.

The hottest man ever!

Its vibrations filled the air and made chores lighter. When I was small, Mom would often get a playful look on her face, go to her case of forty-five records, and choose a favorite to place on the turntable.

“This is Chubby Checker,” she’d say with pride as she lowered the needle. “He invented the Twist.” Then she’d show me how to place my hands and twist my hips from side to side giggling at my little girl awkwardness.

Even then I could see the longing for the carefree years of high school in her face.  For the senior year she missed to care for me. But the wistful look in her eye would turn to a sparkle as she showed me dances like the Mashed Potatoes, Jerk, Swim, and more.

As the years progressed and music changed so did the dances. Forty-five records became albums. New artists arrived on the scene. The Twist was replaced with the Bump. And rockabilly with glam rock, heavy metal, and of course Disco.

And Mom was right there doing them all. She took disco dance lessons with my step-father and on Saturday nights they’d get all glammed up and head out to the clubs to strut their moves beneath disco balls and bright lights. And she’d share too! Some of my happiest memories are of parties where everyone would gather in the living room and Mom would put on Van McCoy and help teach the steps to The Hustle.

In subsequent years Mom and I danced together so many times. At weddings. During trips we took together. In night clubs.

And I always felt the same joy I had as  little girl learning the Twist, Jerk, and Hustle.

“Do it! Do the Hustle.” 1, 2, 3, 4. Side.  Simple steps.

A reminder that even in the hustle bustle of life there are simple steps to creating joy.

Mom with my daughter, Jessica.

Mom with my son, Nicholas.

About Laurie: The author of Forests Secrets and Finding Joy as well as The Pharaoh’s Cry,  Portal Rift, Persistence of Memory, Kidnapped Smile, and Dragon Sky of the fantasy series The Artania Chronicles, Laurie Woodward  is also a screenwriter who co-authored Dean and JoJo: The Dolphin Legacy. Her poetry has been published in multiple journals and anthologies and she was a collaborator on the popular anti-bullying DVD Resolutions. Bullied as a child, Laurie is now an award-winning peace consultant, poet,  and blogger who helps teach children how to avoid arguments, stop bullying, and maintain healthy friendships. She writes on the Central Coast of California. More about her work can be found at Author Laurie Woodward — Next Chapteria.net