By Irene Noble
My mother, my friend, died when she was 91. I miss her still, yet it was eighteen years ago. She was a beautiful, elegant, stylish lady. More than that, she was forgiving, uncomplicated by her total honesty, always willing to learn new ways, new directions even though it might require a reversal of old assumptions.When our family gathers around a Christmas tree,
a dinner table or backyard barbeque, we usually bring in to our
conversation the people who are no longer with us. We laugh at moments
we remember, we cherish the time they were here and, sometimes, we mock
the things they used to say. My mother summed up just about everything
with these words, “That’s the way it is.” I can’t count the times we
have all laughed and said in unison when