It has been a while since my Mom was the Mom I had gown up knowing. The saddness of her passing is juxtaposed with the knowledge that her struggle with dimentia has ended.

I will always have the memories of her telling me stories of her growing up in Point St Charles, of her baking in our kitchen while a small boy watched, waiting to lick out a bowl or test the final product before his brothers came home from school, or the picnics on the islands with berry picking adventures, and the basket full of lunch or dinner goodies. My Mom was an awsome cook.

But her history had more than just a housewife. Although many times she would remind us that looking after 3 boys was a full time job (something we can see now that we may not have recognized then), she was a sales clerk , a fashion model, a skier, a lover of music, a volunteer, a wife, mother to three boys, a grandmother and great grandmother. Like all Mom's there is just not enough room to include the story of her life, but let it be said that from my view, our existence was mirrored in the TV stories of "My three Son's" and "Leave it to Beaver".

Family dinners were always the gravity that held us all together. Good food, laughs, stories from the past, desires for the future and always the support to follow your own path no matter what it was or how crazy it seemed to others. It was a dreamers paradise.

But life and time have a begining and an end. This isn't the end one might think. Marg will live on in our thoughts and memories and we will speak of her often. I will dream of the fresh cookies straight from the oven handed to a young boy, or the hot fresh bread devoured as a teenager.

I don't believe in an ending that has her soul in a heaven, I like to think that her soul waited to the appropriate time to transfer that life force to a new life. I believe that in a few years, somewhere there will be a precocious little girl that will exude the spirit that was my Mom. Party-on Mom.