Tuesday, August 19, 2003

 
Shirley Knaster, 1929-2003

My mom passed away a few days ago. It already feels like ages since she was alive. Although she was sick with lung cancer, she had just finished a successful treatment and her death was devastating and very unexpected. My brother and I spend her last days with her in at Rose Medical Center in Denver, where she received wonderful care. When the inevitable outcome became apparent, the doctors and nurses there worked to make her comfortable and to dignify her death. She was born and grew up in the wonderful immigrant Jewish community of Denver's West Side. She lived her whole life in Denver and leaves family and a wide circle of friends. Here's what I read at her funeral:

What can we say about mom in just a few minutes? When I was 6 years old, trying to figure out the world rationally, I remember thinking: My dad goes to work every day. But what does mom do? Not much, I thought. I pondered this as I put on my clean clothes – the ones she bought and picked out – ate breakfast that she made for me, walked through the spotless house that she kept running, and had her drive me to school, camp, the swimming pool, the doctor, or anywhere else I needed or wanted to go. It wasn’t until years later, after Kenny and I were grown and we had moved far away, that I became a parent myself and I began to understand what my mom and dad had done for us. But her work wasn’t finished after she raised us. She cared for and comforted our grandfather, then our dad, and finally our grandmother, as each of them grew ill and passed away. Each time she suffered a terrible loss, we worried about how she would continue. But she surprised us: with the help of family and friends, she grew stronger, not weaker, as the years passed. She truly believed, and we agreed, that the best part of her life was the last part. She was independent and strong. In recent years we often heard her say “I like my life.” She traveled, saw movies and plays, went out with friends and family. We joked that she was more active than many people half her age – such as her children. She loved to drive herself around town, although she was not fond of driving on the highway. I remember the day two years ago when she asked me to find her a way to drive to Park Meadows without using the highway – so we did. She liked that so much that we then proceeded to drive to Flatirons Crossing – without getting on the highway. Last year her adventures reached the pinnacle when, at age 73, she got her first computer, took classes, and joined the Internet generation. We loved to e-mail and chat with her, and she greatly enjoyed exploring this new hobby as long as she was able. When she was diagnosed with lung cancer earlier this year, she faced it head on. She confronted the grueling treatments with incredible courage and dignity. We were never prouder of her than when she was going to the clinic every day, often driving herself, or being taken by beloved family and friends who were such a comfort to her and to us. The family and friends who were there for her provided an awesome expression of the continuing power of the West Side. Her doctors were the best and were optimistic, but it wasn’t to be. She was not ready to go, and we were not ready to lose her, but we’ll go on, and we will try to gain strength from the experience, as she would. So I recall my age-6 thoughts: what did mom do? Not much, really. Just everything her family needed or wanted, everything her life offered, and more than she ever imagined she could.

Rest in peace, mom.

8/19/2003 10:25:00 AM
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