This morning, Helena Mae Wenskay went to her heavenly home to eternal rest and peace. We got the dreaded "middle of the night" phone call a little after 5am. John was there with her and she knew his comfort right to the end. We are so grateful for that. Awakened from deep sleep, we both felt relief and sorrow. She had suffered with the ravages of Parkinson's. She was in daily conversation with God, and was ready to leave this world for many months.
I loved her. She was more of a mother to me over the last 30 years, than my own came close to. The true beauty of our relationship was that she loved me. I always knew it. Never once did I doubt it. She sided with me, over her own son, sometimes. Now there is a tip for endearing yourself to your daughter-in-laws.
She was a wonderful Grandmother to my children. We had the pleasure of 2 week visits to California, sometimes twice a year. Roaming the house in her nightgown for a piece of toast and tea made her a part of our household. The kids had her undivided attention and she reveled in it. She ran every errand, attended every school program and made the mundane chores of motherhood fun for me. I looked forward to cooking for her, she was so appreciative.
We would drop the kids at school, get a cup of coffee and head to the beach to watch the surfers and talk. Some of the best conversations ever held happen while staring through the windshield of a parked car. We would anticipate the surfers return to their cars where they wrap a towel around their waist and change out of their wetsuits. Helena would squeal with delight when the towel would drop and expose the buff surfer. More than once, I would have to move quickly to start the car and retreat, as the naked surfer became aware of his audience.
We laughed and we cried. She was so little and soft spoken. Yet, I learned she had a tenacious way about her. Like a dog with a bone, she held on to get her way. She loved her boys. They were some lucky boys. Helena, I miss you. I'll see you later.
