After leaving for home Saturday night, I remember telling my sister, Nina, that Mom would probably die now that she got to spend time with all her children. She died the next day after a short walk in the wheelchair. While visiting with my sister and her husband, she just faded away. She was surrounded with love and was in no pain. Although it is sad to see her go, it was a good death. She was such a warm, loving, vibrant woman and a wonderful mother and role model.
She was a fun loving person. Her much repeated motto was “If you aren’t having a good time, it’s your own fault.” She lived that. She would always have something to look forward to. Even the smallest thing, like going out to lunch with the girls.
While never religious, she taught us right from wrong and how to treat others. We grew up “color blind.” I don’t think she knew what prejudice was. Living in Texas for a while, her best friend was Sadie from across the road. She wanted to go out to lunch with Sadie and she kept refusing. Sadie finally had to tell Mom that she couldn’t go because it would be frowned on. You see Sadie was the sweetest, most generous person around, but she was African-American. Mom was very saddened by that. She really didn’t like Texas much. Too many religious prejudices, race prejudices and it was too darn hot! She moved back to California.
She taught us table manners. I remember recently having lunch with her and my grandchildren, (her great-grandchildren) 13 and 17 at the time. I reminded them that Grandma Alice, even at her most forgetful (she had advancing Dementia) would poke them with a fork if they put their elbows on the table. Sure enough, at some point one or the other put their elbow on the table and was rewarded with a fork to said elbow.
She was a hard worker. Our father, Dewey David Baker, died when he was only 44, a massive heart attack. She was just 40 with three kids to raise. The only job she had was working in a pharmacy. She took on more hours and also took on the job of serving food and cleaning up for the local caterers. A side benefit of that was the leftovers! Whoever heard of leftover Prime Rib! She was the queen of “planned overs” as she liked to call it. The “joke” in our house, if you could call it that, was if the house ever caught fire, grab Mom’s recipe box. That’s where she kept the checks from her catering jobs until she got to the bank. I have that recipe box. Such memories.
She eventually remarried. Dating was fun for her, but hard on us kids. By this time she had also taken in, and became guardian of, our cousin, David Word. It was a full house. My brother and cousin gave every date the once over and some didn’t come up to snuff. Some got nicknames. Old Weird Harold and Superman come to mind. She loved to dance and went to dances as often as she could. After a succession of dates with some very nice men my mother met Ed Hansen. He loved my mother and didn’t let the ribbing and shenanigans of Mom’s kids deter him. They married and had 29 wonderful years together. My mother nursed Ed through Alzheimer’s Disease until his death. She told me after his death that she didn’t want to remarry, but she wouldn’t mind having a “Saturday Night Man.”
She did love the boys and the babies. Taking her out to lunch was always a kick. She always wanted to sit where she could see everything. Babies especially held her attention. She was always wanting to know “How much for that baby.” Luckily the families always took it as a compliment and let Mom talk to the babies. Now men were another thing altogether. She always said Hi and usually got a Hi in return. I remember sitting her down at the coffee shop part of a Barnes & Noble. When I returned with her coffee, which was her favorite beverage, there was an older gentleman sitting with her. He introduced himself and remarked that he hoped it was okay that he joined our table as my mother had so graciously invited him to sit. Of course I said yes. We had an enjoyable fifteen minutes of conversation until he needed to go home to his wife. Another time at Polly’s Pies she waved at a nice older gentleman, he came over to talk to her and I realized he was the same as her, he had Dementia as well. As his companion watched the interchange, he asked my Mom to marry him and gave her a big kiss! She loved it. His companion smiled and led him away.
She had a fierce sense of humor right up until the end. One day taking her to lunch, the restaurant we went into was not crowded. The hostess, a cute young lady, said “take any seat you want.” With that my mother reached over, pinched her butt and said “is this seat taken.” Oh - my - gosh! Luckily, the young lady laughed and told me she had a grandma just like her. She took no offense, but I made sure I watched Mom closely after that! 
Abiding by her wishes, we kept her in her mobile home where she had lived for 35 years. We had some wonderful caregivers for her. Last November, when she no longer knew where she lived, we moved her to Salt Lake City to a wonderful care facility. My sister lived close by and was able to keep an eye on her. Mom told us she didn’t want to stay there forever, but she did think it was a nice place to visit. They loved her and took wonderful care of her. As with any person with memory issues she could be a handful. But when they found out that she behaved much better when she had a male attendant, if there was one on the shift, he took care of Alice. All with our blessing. We knew our Mom!
Our sister, Nina, visited a lot and my brother and I came up whenever possible. At least one or the other of us was there every couple of months. Sadly, even with regular visits, as soon as we left, she forgot we had been there. At least she still knew our names and sometimes the names of our spouses.
Our last visit, we all came to see her together. We took her for walks in the wheelchair, brought her coffee and talked with her and sat with her and held her hand. She was very happy to see us. We could see her fading. She left us knowing she was loved and cherished.
Mom, have fun with your friends, Mom and Dad and even your sister, Adelma.I love you, Mom.
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