July 4th will always be a special memory for our family. Growing up in the Mission Hills neighborhood of San Diego, we enjoyed a brief period of pure Americana. I can’t recall exactly when it began (early 70’s), nor can I recall exactly when it ended (mid 70’s), I only remember that it was a time of warm weather, great food, and wonderful camaraderie. My mom’s family arrived early and didn’t leave until well after the fireworks. It was a time of grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins. Our home at 1659 Torrance Street had a pool (with a diving board -very important), and I can remember spending many hours in the pool inventing all kinds of games and competitions. Our uncle Ron was the head coordinator and chief instigator of many of our activities. It was glorious. In many ways it was the highlight of our year. There were no cell phones and social media to distract from the good times; true social interaction, lots of food, and physical activity ruled the day. I often feel sorry for the kids of today and the recent past who never got a chance to experience this simple pleasure of unfettered, undistracted joy.
My mom and her mother (our grandmother) were very close. The Fourth of July was their favorite time of the year. No Fourth of July celebration would be considered complete without my grandmother’s amazing chocolate cake and homemade peach ice cream (a collaboration between mom and my grandmother). To this day, they are spoken of with reverence in the family. “Booie” (a nickname that came much later) and “Nannie” were in their element and though I was too distracted (in a fun way) by my cousins and my three sisters to notice at the time, I understand now through the wisdom of my sixth decade that they worked diligently days in advance to make everything perfect for all of us kids. I must say that they succeeded and then some.
Time marches on as it always does, at some point in time the music stopped, and our annual celebrations ended. The memories of course never did. I don’t remember exactly where I was when my grandmother died. She and my grandfather had moved away to North Carolina, and I remember that the end came rather quickly (brain tumor). I know my parents were there when she succumbed, I do remember regretting that I couldn’t see her a last time before she passed. She departed on July 3rd, 1992, and I recall all the discussions about how ironic it was that she died right before her favorite time and all the memories for which she played a very integral role. From that day forward, I called my mom every year on the anniversary of our grandmother’s death. We always had a nice reminiscence and there were always a lot more smiles than tears. It was always our private moment, this July 3rd was the first time in 34 years that we didn’t have that conversation (I also called her every November 22nd as that was my grandmother’s birthday).
Pancreatic cancer is a terrible way to go. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy. As the time drew nearer, I began to wonder if she would depart on the same day as her beloved mother. I had a funny feeling that she would; God simply reminding us of a golden time in our lives. I had seen her a few weeks before this last early July trip, and I feel so blessed that we managed to have phone conversations with both my oldest daughter Kendall, and my younger daughter Mackenna. Her moments of clarity and strength were certainly waning at that time and yet we managed to have what turned out to be a wonderful goodbye with each of them (although we didn’t realize it then). I can recall her eyes lighting up temporarily as she spoke briefly though meaningfully. My younger daughter Mackenna had just given birth to a son (Weston) on June 2nd. What a wonderful moment knowing that she got to acknowledge another great-grandchild. Right before I left to fly home to Oregon I stopped by to visit my mom not knowing if I would see her again before she left us. I think we both came to the same conclusion simultaneously and we both broke into tears. My sister Allison came into the room, and it became a beautiful moment for all of us. Allison mentioned that I wanted to read something to her; I was so happy she did. I read Roman’s 10: 9-10 and got a resounding Amen! I have always called this the spiritual dotting of the i’s and crossing of the t’s. Suffice it to say, I felt a sense of completion and finality.
“That if you confess with your mouth that Jesus, is Lord. And believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified. And it is with your mouth that you confess and are saved.”
By the time I managed to get back to the desert, her condition had deteriorated markedly; I was somewhat shocked by what I saw. Communication was essentially over, and we transitioned to the monitoring of a quickening decline. The change in her breathing and the detached look in her eyes is something I would just as soon forget. I won’t go into all the details, I’m sure you can imagine. On the morning of July 4th, I headed to Joshua Tree National Park to do a solo hike and pray that the Lord would take her soon and additionally attempt to forget the sad but inevitable change I saw in her. It was a special and necessary moment for me; I wanted to remember her as she was before the cancer took control. When I returned to the house a Catholic priest was there and we did a last rites / sacrament for the sick ceremony at her bedside. Not long after the priest left, she drew her last labored breath and was declared dead at 1:27 PM on July 4th, 2026. Her pain was over and her time of joy in heaven had begun. Praise God.
Now begins the processing stage and an attempt to explain some of the things racing through my mind. Everybody dies, the only mystery is the “how” and the “when”. My dad (Ken) and sister (Allison) were the 24/7 caretakers for my mom. They performed the duties that were necessary for someone dying at home of pancreatic cancer. They coordinated her various medications, provided her with the food that she needed to take, made sure she was hydrated, talked with the physicians and hospice staff, helped her to the bathroom, cleaned her up as her internal organs began to fail, dealt with her evening nightmares and pain, comforted her when she needed comforting, and a host of other tasks large and small that allowed her to pass on in her own bed. They both sacrificed a tremendous amount to do this and yet they did it with love and the heart of a servant. The rest of us (Amy, Carey, and myself) helped as best as we could, yet we were clearly a mere supplement to the loving care that she received from my dad and Allison. It was an amazing example of unconditional love, and we all are eternally grateful.
It is true that you can learn a lot about someone based on the way that they live. And, interestingly, you can perhaps learn even more by the way they leave this world of pain and suffering which is often a part of life for all people (especially at the end of life). People who think of others and often put others first are certainly admirable. This is one of the most enduring traits that comes to mind when I think of my mom. She was always empathetic and caring about the problems of others. It touched and shaped all of us over the years.
One of the things I didn’t expect was the grace and strength with which she went. She was never one that relished medical procedures and doctor visits as they have always made her quite uncomfortable. She dealt with a truly bad and downright scary hand with pancreatic cancer. I know she had moments when she felt frightened and alone. Instead of wallowing in the misery of it, she would muster up smiles, tell little jokes, and apologize for the trouble of caring for her. Sometimes, especially near the end, the words didn’t come but you could tell that she felt our love and was ready to accept the natural human fear and move on to heaven which awaited her.
Finally, I must say that I do not feel that it was a coincidence that my mom and grandmother left us on the days that they did. July 4th serves as a perfect tribute to honor her memory. July 4th has always conjured up tons of memories for the family and now we have an additional reason to celebrate / remember those memories that have lasted all these years. The fact that her co-conspirator in the formation of those memories left us on July 3rd (prep day), only satisfies the connection further. Rather than being ironic, I see it now as altogether fitting and proper.
I can almost hear the splashing and commotion of the pool and taste that chocolate cake. Somewhere, and somehow, I know that both are smiling down on us. July 4th was special before, and now it has become remarkable.
“Hello Mary Lou, goodbye heart.”
“Sweet Mary Lou, I’m so in love with you.”
“I knew Mary Lou, we’d never part.”
“So, hello Mary Lou, goodbye heart.”
Ricky Nelson
Thomas M. Cook 7/13/26