Carson and Irene, together again at last. I've had 3 mothers-in-law, two of them were in my life for significant periods of time, and were great influences on me, although so very different in many ways. Both are now gone, and my heart hurts so for their sons at the loss.

But Irene, the last, was one of those moms that only seems to show up in the television shows of the 50s, or movies from a similar era. She and Carson met at a USO dance, Carson a fine young man, who happened to be from the same small town that I adopted while in HS.

They lived in that town for a while and eventually settled in another small town, and raised a family of 4 children, two boys and two girls, in a house full of love, laughter, good food, and learning, across the street from the school, making it hard to get 'lost' on one's way home from school.

Irene was many things, a fabulous pie baker, a woman of infinite wisdom, and good humor. For wedding presents, she would give the new daughter-in-law a loose leaf notebook with the famous pie recipes, but of course they could never be duplicated.

Every year on her son's birthday, she would call and leave a message on the answering machine, retelling the story of his birth, complete with laughter at the complications involved with getting a ride to the hospital.

She was from Texas, her father was a jockey, who later grew too big to ride races, but who never lost his love for horses.

When her beloved Carson was dying, he kept talking about seeing big blue butterflies, which of course worried me, ever the mental health professional. But the kind ICU doctor, a man of Jewish faith, explained to the family that these were transition objects, as he transitioned from this life to the next. It was such a gift to her and to the family to help them through the difficult time of the loss of Carson.

So butterflies became a symbol for Irene, that Carson was not gone. The family would give her gifts with butterflies, which she cherished, but then she cherished everything about her family.

In a way the butterflies were a perfect choice, as Carson was in the Army Air Corps when they met. In their later years they lived in a tiny apartment, where they read and laughed, and fed the squirrels that would come to their patio, and relished in the lives of their children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren, despite the occasional missteps of the kids.

At Carson's simple family service, the family sat in a circle and told stories of Carson. When everyone else was done, Irene stood up and recited, "How do I love thee, let me count the ways......"

I celebrate that they are together again, and mourn for the loss of her presence here.