A Letter to My Friends

Dear friends,

Recently, I have suffered a devastating loss. I am grieving, and I will probably need months and even years to recover from my mother's passing.

I wanted to let you know that I will cry from time to time. I don't apologize for my tears since they are not a sign of weakness or a lack of faith. My tears are a gift for me to express the extent of my loss.

At times, I may be angry, irritable, or withdrawn for no apparent reason. Sometimes I'm not sure why I feel the way I do. All I know is that my emotions are intense because of my grief. If I don't always make sense to you, please be forgiving and patient with me.

More than anything, I need your understanding and your presence. You don't always have to respond. Your presence and a touch or hug lets me know you care. Please don't wait for me to call you since sometimes I am too emotional to do so. I need you to reach out to me.

If you have experienced a similar type of loss, please feel free to share it with me. It will help rather than cause me to feel worse. And don't stop sharing if I begin to cry. It's all right, and any tears you express as we talk are all right, too.

This loss is so painful, and right now it feels like the worst thing that ever could happen to me. But I will survive. I cling to that knowledge even though I have times when I don't believe it. I know that I will not always feel as I do now.

Thank you for caring about me. Thank you for listening. Your concern comforts me and is a gift for which I am thankful.

Sincerely,

Dawn

Adapted from a letter from Hospice Austin.

I just love you

I attended a paint party at BlackFinn last Monday hosted by my friend Christiane Michaelis. She recently started her own business called the Dirty Easel. I took the opportunity to create a piece of art that would honor my relationship with my mother. The color scheme is half her favorites and half my own. Both the paint and the words are free flowing. I'm honestly not sure I even like it, but it came from my heart.

I've typed the poem below because it can be difficult to see since there are so many layers on the canvas itself.

This is my letter
for me and mama.

Maman; (Mommy)
la mère; (mother)
la reine. (queen)

I just love you
Time cannot erase the love I feel for you.
In spite of every selfish stupid thing I ever did
You alone are the largest part of me
The piece of me I cannot ignore

We are

This is not the end, mama.
I love you.

La mère se meure. (Mother is dying)

Vive la reine. (Long live the queen)

A Mother's Memories to Her Child: A Typical Day Growing Up

Joyce

Growing up, I usually spent my days
Helping out after I came home from my school. I loved school a lot. I was social there and made good grades. I had several best friends. Still have three to this day: Geri, Linda, and Barbara.

My chores included
Dishes
Cooking
Keeping my room clean
Watching siblings

On winter days, I would
Read books a lot.
Visit girlfriends and dance, play jacks, or talk and make up stories.

On bright summer days, I liked to
Be outside
Go to the beach
Jump rope
Sit in the shade
Visit with friends

During the day, my mother
Worked odd jobs and part time jobs a lot when she wasn't at a lull and "just a housewife."

During the day, my father
Slept until noonish as he worked nite hours and needed rest. When he was up, he would spend time with us kids and do his chores.

Dawn

Growing up, I usually spent my days
Playing in my room or, later, hiding out in my room.

Going to school, which I did not like. Don't get me wrong, I loved learning, especially English and reading, but a lot of the other kids did not like me. I had a few friends, but I spent most of my time alone. Some of my friends thought I was a little weird because I had ideas. For example, I once asked my friend if she ever wanted to be a boy. She looked at me funny. I just thought I would be happier if I were a boy because I'd be able to do more things and would be stronger. Because I preferred to draw and write on the playground instead of play, other kids made fun of me. I was a little nerdy and very shy.

My chores included
Doing the dishes
Dusting the furniture
Washing, drying, and folding the laundry
Vacuuming
Cleaning my room

On winter days, I would
Read books
Play board games with my sister
Draw and do arts and crafts
Write stories

On bright summer days, I liked to
Read books
Play in the sprinkler or the neighbor's pool
Play outside with the neighborhood kids

During the day, my mother
Took care of us kids when my sister and I were little. We did arts and crafts together, but mostly my sister and I played in our room. When we fought, mom had us kneel in opposite corners of the hallway until we apologized to each other.

Then, she started teaching special education at a local middle school. My mom worked with emotionally disabled kids during the school year and physically disabled during the summer.

During the day, my father
Worked in Quality Control at an international power and automation technology firm. He is an electrical engineer.

Behave

My head

a lightning rod that

signals impending rain

days before it 

back-lights the clouds. 

Without lightning,

there is only static,

a silence that thrums the

synapses of my brain.

If thoughts have mass,

then I weigh a ton, and

I am counting the pounds

as they collect -

under my chin

around my middle

between my legs; finally,

stacking themselves above my feet

pressing me further to the ground so that

every step becomes

a burden. 

I am immovable

Unmoved by the

daily data that drives us,

forces us to the cliff of extinction, and says,

"You, there! 

You behave, 

or else."

When I see the outline of clouds

in the flickering of the sky;

When I feel the lightning 

behind my eyes,

I wonder,

'Who will die 

if I misbehave?'

A Mother's Memories to Her Child

In 2004, I gave my parents each a journal with prompts to fill out that would tell me about their lives. I started sharing my own responses to the same questions a couple years back, but I haven't kept up with it. I left off with my siblings last time.

I've decided to change my technique a bit, so I'll include my mom's responses as well as my own. Enjoy....

Joyce
My Hometown

As a child, I lived in
St. Petersburg, Florida

Mom's house on 39th Ave. No. The one in the middle, not the pink one.

Our street was
Patton Ave. No. then 39th Ave. No.

My favorite place in the neighborhood was
My home at 39th Ave. I grew up there. I was 21 when we moved. I loved the screen room on a rainy day. I was very happy there.

My favorite community event
Church festivals and school activities. We pretty much stayed to ourselves. Mom and dad had a few close friends but mostly it was family activities. Vicki and Gilda Lopa (friends)

Games my friends and I played
Hopscotch; hide and seek; jump rope; jacks and we loved to dance a lot. We listened to the Beatles and Elvis. We made up stories and plays.

Someone from my hometown whom I admire
Father Mulligan
Aunt Rose and Aunt Arna
And of course my parents Ezell and Eddie Colson

My Childhood Home
When I was growing up, our home was
Full of love; crowded as we had foster teens. We had up to 8 teens at one time in the house!! Busy with chores; did our schoolwork and played a lot. There was no air conditioning and only one bathroom.

My favorite place in our home
My room and the screened-in back porch. I loved when it rained and you could hear the sound on the aluminum roof. Always cool there. 

When I wanted to be alone
I would go to my room or walk around the neighborhood or go to the backyard under the tree. Sometimes go to the bathroom but not for long due to usage.

My favorite hiding place
Never really hid. I would just withdraw verbally and be quiet. My reading books was an escape. I liked silence.

My favorite place to play
Back porch or the yard. We were outside a lot. Played jacks a lot.

At home I could always
Be myself. I was relaxed but strong and bossy at times; like when I had to watch my little brothers or other kids.


Dawn
My Hometown

As a child, I lived in
Houston, Texas. More specifically, Alief, Texas.

My house on LaGranada

Our street was
La Granada

My favorite place in the neighborhood was
The park at the neighborhood pool and tennis court.
The playground at the elementary school. 

My favorite community event
Fall festivals at the churches we attended. First was Notre Dame where I won one of those totally 80s fuzzy piggy banks. Mine was a squirrel. Jean won a bunny. Another time, I won a jug of wine - ha ha! Then was St. Justin Martyr where they sell Filipino food, fried bananas, used books, and smoked meats.

Games my friends and I played
Cowboys and Indians. We played with almost all the neighbor kids. Our porch was huge,so it was the jail.
Dress up. One time, Jean, my friend, and I put on her mom's bras and filled them with socks, then proceeded to parade around with our "boobies."
Red Rover.
Marco Polo in the pool.
Truth or Dare. I was once dared to eat the leaf of a plant that everyone thought looked gross. I did.

Someone from my hometown whom I admire 
Sharon Thomas, my adopted aunt, who taught with my mother for many, many years and continues to inspire me to teach with my heart and a good sense of humor. She is also one of the best storytellers I have ever known.

My Childhood Home
When I was growing up, our home was
Divided. Mom and the girls on one side; dad and brother on the other. Mom was very loving and enjoyable when she was in a good mood. We did crafts, danced in the living room, and played cards. When she was stressed or in a bad mood, or when she had a terrible migraine, she was not much fun to be around. Dad was busy with work a lot, did a lot of Boy Scouts stuff with my brother, and withdrew and got really quiet when mom and brother fought.

My favorite place in our home
My bedroom when I was a teen, mom's bed, the front porch, and the back of the couch in the living room that looked out onto the patio and backyard. 

When I wanted to be alone
As a teen, I closed the doors of my room. As a little kid, I think I went in the closet or bathroom to be alone since I shared the room with my sister. 

My favorite hiding place
Bathroom

My favorite place to play
Front porch and yard

At home I could always
Isolate myself from just about everything and everybody

Mom's Obituary

Joyce Marie Ambuehl, resident of Richmond, Texas, died at the age of 67 years old on August 18, 2014 at OakBend Medical Center of a hemorrhagic stroke.

Joyce was born May 23, 1947 to Ezell and Edward Colson in St. Petersburg, Florida where she spent her childhood with her three best friends and her cousins. She married Ralph Ambuehl on February 22, 1969. They moved to Gainesville, Florida and stayed there for three years while Ralph finished both his bachelors and masters degrees. They moved to Houston with their 18 month old son Robert in the spring of 1973.

Joyce and Ralph set down their roots in Alief, Texas where they raised their three children. She worked in the Alief Independent School District for 18 years as a paraprofessional in a Special Education classroom with her best friend Sharon Thomas. During the summers, she worked tirelessly with physically handicapped children. She served as an officer and president of the Alief Paraprofessional Association. Later in life, she worked at the Fort Bend County Library in Richmond where she was able to share her passion for reading with her community.

Joyce was committed to her Catholic faith and was active as a Eucharistic minister and a member of the RCIA team at St. Justin Martyr Church for almost 20 years. More recently she had served as a member of the ACTS Core Team and Pastoral Council.

She is survived by her husband Ralph and their three children, Robert, Dawn, and Jean; her five grandchildren, Alexandra, Zachery, Anastasia, Maya, and Lila; as well as her brother John Colson. Edward Colson, Jr., her baby brother, preceded her in death 18 months ago.

Services for Joyce Ambuehl
Viewing & Funeral Vigil with the Rosary – Thursday, 8/21/2014
4:00 pm – 6:45 pm – Viewing
6:45Pm – 8:00pm Funeral Vigil with Rosary
Distinctive Life Funeral Home
5455 Dashwood St., Bellaire, TX 77401
(713) 933-0356

Funeral – Friday, 8/22/2014
10:00 am 11:30am
St Justin Martyr Catholic Community
13350 Ashford Point Dr., Houston, TX 77082
(281) 556-5116

Interment – Immediately following Funeral
12:30 – 1:00pm
Davis - Greenlawn Cemetery
3900 B.F. Terry Blvd
(FM 2218 & US 59)
Rosenberg, Texas 77471
(281) 341-8800

Reception Immediately following Interment (~1:30pm) at
St Justin Martyr Catholic Community
13350 Ashford Point Dr, Houston, TX 77082
(281) 556-5116

Note: The Ambuehl Family has requested that in Lieu of Flowers, donations be made to St. Justin or St. Faustina in that order of priority.

Eulogy for Joyce M. Ambuehl

Joyce Marie Ambuehl

Ages and Stages

On May 23, 1947, a two and a half pound fetus was pronounced stillborn before she ever entered the world. In the delivery room, her mother clutched her own mother's hand, pushed forth her infant who, to everyone's astonishment, she was alive. At the time, there was no medical technology to support such a premature baby, so the doctor sent my grandmother home with the stern warning to not expect her to live past a few weeks.

My mother spent the next few weeks sleeping in her father's shoebox with his handkerchief as her blanket.

It may be hard to reconcile this image of my infant mother with the woman we are here to say goodbye to. Her life was truly a miracle; thereby, all of our lives have been miracles. The child who by all means should not have lived did so and brought forth my life, the lives of my siblings, and the lives of my children. If she had not survived, none of us would ever have been born.

---

Mom and dad's wedding, Feb 22, 1969

"She was a saint," my brother in law said recently. My gut reaction was, "No, she wasn't!" I'm her daughter; I should know. In my mind it can be difficult to separate the mother I had growing up and the woman you knew in her later life.

As an adult and as a mother, I have come to understand the strain my mother was under as a young woman and what drove her to behave as she did. I've come to have more compassion for her, to understand that, just like me, she did the best she could with what she had.

Having moved from Florida - the only home she'd ever known - to Texas with only her infant and her husband, she was isolated and alone most of the time. This was particularly challenging for her because she is descended from the Colson clan, which includes about a hundred people all of whom live within a five mile radius of each other. Then she had me and two short years later, my sister.

As a child, ours was a house divided. Where my father was so silent at times as to seem comatose, my mom was so outspoken as to seem manic. At other times, especially around the times of her migraines, she would fall into deep depressions. I remember lying in bed at night and listening to her cry on the porch outside my window. Once, she went so far as to climb in her car and drive off without telling anyone where she was going.

There were wonderful times, though, too. I had terrible nightmares as a child. In the wee hours of the morning, I would run to her bedside and beg to get in. She pulled me close, comforted me by wrapping her arm around me, and kissed my head. In time, I could calm down and fall asleep to her rhythmic breathing.

Before school, she would lovingly plait my hair - the same hair she always wished she'd had. We held dance parties in the living room the three of us girls, flitting around to Strawberry Fields Forever, tromping around to Thriller, learning the jitterbug, cha-cha, and line dancing. She sang Que Sera to us in the morning and before we went to bed just as her mother did and as I do now for my girls.

All that changed 25 years ago when my dad finally embraced the faith he so admired and he and my mom got on the same page, to share their love of The Lord with their children.

When you read about the saints, many of them experienced similar conversions.

---

I have been trying all week to make sense of this.

Mom with her baby brother Ed before he died.

My dad has said that God prepared him in his thoughts and prayers throughout the past year. To be honest, God has done the same for me though I didn't know why it was happening. Every time I spoke to her recently, if I started to get annoyed with her, I would say to myself, 'One day, you're going to miss this.'

When my uncle died 18 months ago, I saw a side of my mother I had not seen in almost 20 years, not since my grandma died. For the first time in my selfish life, I saw my mother's weakness and asked, "What can I do to help?" I saw her depression and realized that she and I are the same.

When I got pregnant with Lila, My momma's 5th and final grandchild, I asked my mom to be by my side just like she was when Maya was born. Earlier this year, She missed Lila's birth by mere minutes, and I could see in her eyes immediately how sad and sorry she was. But in the five days to come while I was hooked up to machines in the hospital, my mom was the one I needed at my bedside. Though Lila may never remember her the way we will, her grandma is the one who helped form her earliest moments in the world. Her foundation. Grandma held her when mommy couldn't, comforted her while mommy slept, and became the rock upon whom We all trusted. My mother will forever be the model of motherhood I will try to live up to.

She was my confessor. She may not have been a priest, but I knew if anyone could ask God to forgive me, it had to be her. Like my sister, I have no regrets in regards to what I needed to say to my mom. I told her all in the last year. She did not judge me; she simply told me to use the rest of my life as atonement for my sins.

---

Look at that smile.

People love my mother for many reasons: Her smile, her compassion, her selflessness. She was the kind of woman who would take the vegetables her kids turned their noses up at and would feed to the poor. Her special ed students depended on her for hugs because they had no one at home to hug them. My friends told me over and over again they wished she were their mother.

She was mother to many; the rock upon whom we depended; our strength, our guide, counselor, teacher, wife, mother, sister, daughter, aunt, cousin, friend.

Perhaps to make sense of her death we must look inside ourselves and ask, "What have I learned from Joyce Marie Ambuehl and how can I share that with others so that I may carry on her legacy of compassion and perseverance?"

Was her life a miracle? There can be no doubt.

Was she a saint?

You knew her, too. What do you think?