It is so damn easy to dismissively and unproductively damaging to reduce a parent to those three darn Witches, “Coulda,” “Woulda,” and “Shoulda.”

It is damaging to your memories and in your rememberings. My heart and soul about her, many years after her passing, are the “D” words listed below. (I used four “D” words already in a disparaging way. Well, okay, five times.) Find a letter for your Mother that healthfully retrieves and smilingly finds a place within you.

By her deliberate compassion about my failing grades, an ouched finger, or well deserved spanking. The discipline she showed us five about the importance of observing Catholic practices and rituals. Those deliciously many-full, healthy, flavored stews and casseroles. A dedicated discipline in raising growing children, well into her fifties. In spite of her own devolving person-hood, her devotion always to family first. With a quiet husband strapped to his easy chair next to the fireplace, she devoted love, from both of them, to the five of us. Daringly, her solo summer weekly trips to a cottage with only her wit, wisdom, and whims to humor us five. Through her love of music, she duplicated for each of us a deep, continuing love for music of all kinds.

Decidedly impaired in her personal life but only exhibited to a few. Deadly, my mother found her well earned eternal peace.

And, now her five fulfilled, retired, children bi-weekly Zoom even as the virus subsides. We talk seriously about politics mixed with comical family humor (many times the politics spills into humor). However, during those Zooms, spoken or silent, is the continuing rememberings and re-memorizings of our, my, “D” labeled Mother.

PS. I love the “W’s,” I could have fun with those.