My mom died last week, at about 9:20 p.m. on March 14. I can't really talk here about the two weeks prior to her death, or the role I played in helping to care for her in the last eight days of her life. That is personal and it runs deep.
I can tell you that even though she was ninety and I am nearly fifty-four, I still feel like I've been orphaned. But I don't want to talk about how much death stinks, or how sad it makes me. I don't want to talk about how, despite my pain, I know Mom is OK—probably even happy. I have no deep thoughts to share with you. If you want my deep thoughts you can read what I had to say on the death of Bruce's mom, and the death of my dad.
Instead, I want to share some stories of my mom because she was vibrant, and full of life and fun.
Mom—Maria Dolores de Faria Paes Johnson—was born in Brasil on September 4, 1930. Her father is Pedro Baptista Paes, who worked for the railroad and who was a well-known musician in his town. Her mother is Maria Philomena Angelini da Silva Paes; she loved theater, did amazing needlework (embroidery and crochet), and taught needle arts at a Catholic school (probably mom mom's school). And her sister (Mom's sister) is Maria Helena de Faria Paes Johnson; Aunt Helena is married to my dad's brother, Norman.
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| Dedé at...three years old? maybe four? |
Mom had a good life in Brasil. Because her father worked for the railroad she could pretty much get on the train and go wherever she wanted. She went to the theater to see plays, operas and ballets. She was always very smart; as a little girl (five years old, I think) she read poetry on the radio. She told us that when she played house with her friends, her husband always spoke a foreign language—one that she'd made up and could speak fluently. (This must have been a sign of things to come.) Mom learned many real languages; she was fluent in Portuguese and English, and she also spoke a little bit of French, Spanish, and Italian.
She was raised Catholic, and she attended a Catholic school where she had all kinds of fun and got into all kinds of mischief. For example, one time, at mass, Mom felt sick. She rubbed her hand across her forehead, and then passed out. After that, when she wanted to skip mass, she would rub her hand across her head and the nuns would whisk her out of the room.
At lunch, if they served something she didn't like, she would slyly pick a hair from her head and put it in her food. Then she would call the nuns and say, "I can't eat this. There's a hair in it!" She got away with it for a while until one of the nuns finally confronted the cook, saying, "This poor girl can't eat her food; it always has hair in it!" The cook angrily pointed out that she had short, kinky hair, but the hairs in Dolores' food were long and dark.
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| high school graduation |
Mom graduated from high school at fifteen and then went on to study pre-med; she was one of two girls in that program. One day she and the other girl decided to skip classes and enjoy themselves around town. The next day their teacher, suspecting the reason both girls were absent on the same day, decided to give a pop quiz on the uses of nitroglycerin—the previous day's topic. Mom and her friend didn't know what to write, but Mom did know a couple of uses for glycerin. Thinking they must have similar properties, she whispered to her friend something you could do with glycerin. Mom says that this professor would pompously stalk around the room, with his hands behind his back, and give students—particularly Dolores and her friend—arrogant looks. After the quiz he announced to the entire class, "I'm happy to tell you that we have discovered two new uses for nitroglycerin: for making soap [her friend's answer] and you can use it in making chocolates!" [mom's answer] Mom says that they never lived that down. Despite that, Mom graduated pre-med and as a school teacher at the age of eighteen.
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| college graduation The inscription says "Aos queridos paisinhos, pelo minha formatura, com todo a meu amor. Maria Dolores, A sua Dedé" (To my dear parents, I give this, on my graduation, with all my love. Maria Dolores, Your Dedé) |
Although Mom was Catholic, she often attended Mutual activities with The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. She was eventually baptized into the church, and even taught Primary sometimes. One day as she was walking to the church she saw glanced up and saw a new missionary greeting people. She would tell us, "He was so cute and had so much wavy hair!" She knew then and there that she was going to marry that missionary with the glasses. She was already engaged to a young man of wealth and consequence, but that night she broke off her engagement with him.
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| He was pretty cute. |
After Dad's mission, he wrote to Dolores, asking her to come to the United States and marry him. Although she barely knew him, she came. Her sister, my Aunt Helena, came with her to act as chaperone and later married my dad's brother, my Uncle Norman.
Mom loved to have fun, and she was adventurous! She told us a story of when she and Aunt Helena first came to the states: They had a two-hour layover in Miami, and figured that would be enough time to do some sightseeing. They'd seen movies from the States, and "everybody [in those movies] was hitch-hiking." They thought, "The only way we can go see the sights is to hitch-hike." So they stood in front of the airport and thumbed a ride from a "nice, distinguished-looking" man. He took them around the beach in Miami—not too far from the airport—told them a little bit about the United States, and then dropped them off in time to catch their flight. Mom told us how young and dumb she and her sister were, and would finish the story by saying, "I don't want anybody to do that!"
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| Helena and Dolores |
Mom's sense of adventure (and probably a sense of humor and a lot of patience) led her to take her family of eight kids camping, fishing, and hiking. She had fun with us in water fights and hula-hoop contests. And when she was in her seventies she even rolled down the grassy hills surrounding her local elementary school with her grandkids.
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| a camping trip—before my time |
Mom's biggest adventure was probably coming to the United States to marry Dad; until she met him, she had never imagined coming to live here. There was some difficulty about Mom's temple recommend—I think because they were having a hard time getting her church records from Brasil. But Dad was scheduled to ship out to Germany with the Army, and time was running short. He finally told his mother, "If we can't get married in the temple, we'll just go to Las Vegas!" So Grandma went to the church offices and talked to the president of the church, David O. McKay, to arrange for both of my parents to be interviewed. In Dad's interview he was asked if he intended to send for Dolores at the first possible chance, and his recommend—and the marriage—was only approved when Dad said, "Yes!" They were married on July 8, 1953, and Dad left for Germany just a few days afterward.
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| Orlin and Dolores' wedding announcement picture for the newspaper. This is their only wedding photo because they didn't have time to arrange a big, fancy wedding. |
While Mom waited for Dad to achieve the necessary promotions to be able to send for his wife (in March of 1954), she lived with her new in-laws. Mom told us, "When I lived in Brasil I didn't have to do anything besides go to school. When I took my bath I would leave my clothes on the floor and the next day they would be cleaned, put away, and ready to use. So when I was first married I was doing the same thing to my poor mother-in-law." Grandma Johnson didn't know what to do, so she wrote to Dad saying, "You'd better tell her that we don't have maids or anything." Mom says, "I decided to do the right thing and at least pick up my clothes." (Grandma still washed them.)
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| This is a photo (recently colorized) that Mom sent to Dad in Germany. Was it taken in his mother's garden? The inscription on the back says, "Darling, parece até que ue tenho uma grande plantacão, não é mismo? A ti, meu querido, com tôdo o amor da tua Dolores 8-5-53" (Darling, seems like I have a big plantation, doesn't it? To you, my dear, with all the love of your Dolores) |
Mom also told us that when she was first married Grandma used to make a really good soup; Mom and her sister loved it! Mom didn't know how to cook yet—she often told us that when she was married she didn't know how to do anything. She told Grandma, "Oh, give me the recipe for this soup. I really want to learn how to do it because I love it." And Grandma would smile and say, "OK. I will give it to you." After Mom had pestered her many times, Grandma finally said, "OK. I'll give you the recipe right now," opened her cupboard and pulled out a can of Campbell's Vegetable Beef Soup. Mom said, "That was one thing I learned to cook."
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| Grandma Johnson I think this was taken just before Dad's mission in Brasil. |
Mom never really learned to cook until she and Dad were on their own. She often told us this story of when they were living in Germany: Dad loved marble cake, and she really wanted to surprise him with one. Since she didn't know how to make a marble cake, she asked a friend of hers how to do it. And Dad really was surprised: The cake had marbles in it!
Another time she was making a stew for dinner. She covered the pot and left it warming on the stove while she and Dad went out to do some things. When they got home and she uncovered the stew all she found was a pile of ashes.
When they were back in the States, Grandma taught Mom to do home-canning. Mom says that Grandma was very fussy about making her canned goods look really nice, so when they did whole tomatoes Mom was determined to make hers look even better than Grandma's. While Grandma pressed and squished her tomatoes into the jars, Mom artistically arranged her tomatoes. They were very pretty and not squished at all. But when they were processed, the tomatoes shrunk. Grandma had beautiful jars full of plump, whole tomatoes, while Mom's "pretty" jars were full of juice with just a few tomatoes floating in them.
One time, when Mom and Dad lived in Germany, she had done the washing—herself—but she didn't want their underwear to be hanging out to dry when Dad got home. So she warmed up the oven and put the underwear in it. When she went to check on it later she was amazed to find that it had disappeared! She looked all over the oven for that underwear, but the only thing she discovered were some hard, little, black puffs stuck to the oven. Because it was made of nylon, the underwear had all melted.
Mom loved fun, and she loved stories, and she loved jokes—even when the joke was on her, as you can tell by some of the stories she told us.
Mom did learn to keep house beautifully, and even learned to sew on her own. She made a lot...probably most of the clothes her little kids wore to school and church. And Mom became a fantastic cook, as anyone who ate at our house, or had a meal brought to them by her, can attest. Everything she did, she did well, and she was pretty much self-taught.
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| Easter dresses that Mom made. I was in fifth grade and I was in love with this dress. (Although I don't look it here.) |
Mom loved to go shopping, even just window shopping. She started full-time work when I was eight, so that I could start in full-time dance lessons when I was ten. With our overlapping school/work/dance schedules we didn't spend much time together. But I loved it when she'd take me shopping with her on Saturdays (even though I got worn out long before she did). I remember walking through the mall with her when I was a teenager—about sixteen—and being a little surprised when I realized that we were holding hands, just as if I were a little girl. But I wasn't embarrassed; it was just nice.
Mom always loved animals; she used to tell us about the pets she had in Brasil: a little monkey, a cat—which she would close inside the grand piano when she was supposed to be practicing—and she even had a pet snail. When we were growing up she let us have all kinds of pets. We had fish, lizards, horny-toads, frogs, cats, dogs, guinea pigs, gerbils, finches, rabbits, and ducks, and she loved them all.
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| six kids, a guinea pig, a cat, and a rabbit |
Mom saw the beauty in everything. She loved rainbows, and sunsets, and even lightning. Melanie says that even after she was married Mom would call her on the phone sometimes and say, "Quick! Run outside and look at the sky." They shared many beautiful sunsets that way. Mom always pointed out the splendor of the mountains, she loved flowers, and even saw the beauty in the dandelions.
Mom was an amazing artist. She painted beautiful landscapes, still-lifes, and portraits. She donated a painting to my elementary school, and I was so proud of her! I remember pointing that painting out to a friend and telling her, "My mom painted that." The friend wouldn't believe me, so I told her that her (my mom's) signature was on it. When she learned that my mom's name was Dolores she still wouldn't believe me because Mom signed all of her paintings with her nickname: Dedé. Although she had an offer of $500—approximately $4,400 in today's money—for one of her portraits (a picture that all of us kids called "the old man"), she just gave a lot of her artwork away to friends. Occasionally she used it in trade for something she wanted to get for her children, and I well remember the painting of a clown that hung in my pediatrician's office when I was little. I only recently learned that she'd made it in payment for services.
Mom saw the beauty in people too—all people. Not only in different hair and skin colors, or cultures and religions, but in the people themselves. She loved everyone; all were welcome in her house. All her kids' friends called her "mom," and they were welcome at any time, night or day. She opened her house to people in need many times. She often told us the story of how she and Dad once picked up a hitch-hiker (those hitch-hiking people in the States!), brought him to their home, fed him, let him stay the night, and gave him some cash before taking him where he wanted to go. And one time, when I was a teenager, she found out that a family we knew had been living in a tent, so she let them stay in our house for a couple of weeks until they could get into a new place.
Most of all, Mom loved her family.
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| school pictures 1972-73, I'd guess |
Growing up, Mom made me feel like I was the most amazing person ever. She bragged on me and showed off everything I did—from my sewing projects, to my dancing, to my piano-playing—to everyone. And she had me convinced that I really was as impressive as she said I was. (It was kind of a shock to be out on my own and discover that I may not have been as outstanding as she'd led me to believe.) She built a confidence in me that I couldn't have gotten in any other way.
After I was married and starting my own family I didn't see as much of my parents. They served a two-year mission in Lisbon, Portugal after I'd been married for three years. Soon after they got back home, my little family moved to Tennessee for three years for Bruce's schooling. And six years ago we moved to Vernal, away from our families in Salt Lake. But I miss her. I miss my mom. I miss the years when I could have—and should have—been closer to her.
She is an incredible lady.
