In Minnesota, the weather in January was above average and I was optimistic that the new year would be above average, too. It started out to be just that. My family took advantage of the lack of wind chill to go outdoors snowshoeing, x-country skiing, or hiking when there was too little snow, but plenty of thick ice for anglers rigging tip-ups on the frozen lakes. Once a week I’d meet friends at regional parks for adventure, enjoying smiles and chatter. Jan. 20 marked the inauguration of a new US President. This year started out uplifting.

Then February blew in icy change, and I went from a happy-go-lucky demeanor to stunned, grief-stricken, and frozen in my tracks.

My productive demeanor faltered when my mother-in-law passed away. The sudden slam into grief crushed me. Eileen was a marvelous woman who was very much a beloved pseudo mother to me and grandmother to my daughters, and supportive mother to my spouse. We looked forward to facetiming her each week, and at 90, she was eager to “see” us and escape her boredom being safe in a New York apartment.

That same week we were preparing for our youngest to pack up again and move away to college. We scheduled her move-in date two days ahead of the unexpected NY trip to bury my husband’s mother.

Eileen was a jet-setter, go-getter, proud New Yorker and wonderful mother of 3 sons, an amazing mother-in-law, and proud grandmother to six young adults across the miles who she enjoyed spoiling since babies! She always offered us straight-to-the- point advice that was spot-on, compassionate and brilliant. She was a business owner in a man’s world back in her day, fought for her rights to be treated equal, was elected to the Board of Directors at North Shore Towers, Queens. She was  honored for her contributions to her community in 2007. Always witty, classy and informed, she lived a long life. Facetime was a Godsend this year!  Oh, and beautiful! She never looked her age. Generosity was her fountain of youth to keep her going at 90.

We will miss her dearly. What I didn’t share publicly on Facebook was what she meant to me personally. She and I had very little in common besides being avid readers, and both loving her son, Neil. She was more than a mother-in-law. Since my mom died at 72, Eileen was there for me a decade longer than my mom could be. Having someone listen to my stories, never criticize, and was ready to offer advice, but only if asked, was a blessing. My mom had been disabled; could not walk, work, and needed our care. It was amazing to be in Eileen’s house and hear the words, “What can I get you?” She was the first upright mom I met, ready to walk around the kitchen to serve us, go shopping as an event, and spoil me, all unnecessarily so, but she insisted, because that was what she did. She refused my help to clear the table, scolding me since I was her guest. It was not easy to stop my reflex to serve her, but soon, I realized I was taking away her pleasure. It was only when her knees went bad that she’d allow me to help out. I finally discovered her favorite brands of cosmetics, and would surprise her when I came to town. A purchase that small made her genuinely happy, because while she could afford to buy all she needed, she appreciated the gesture. Through her joy of the theater and museums, I was able to broaden my cultural experiences. This was something my parents didn’t have a chance to expose me to. Most of all, she loved me because I loved her son. She wanted us to be happy. She overlooked our different religions, seeing how compatible we were otherwise. We had a mutual respect for our beliefs. She knew I loved her, and she’d always say, “I love you more.” She was sincere.

Over the next few days, I blocked out time in the evenings to be with my youngest daughter, helping where I could so that her duffle bag would be chock full of what she’d need at college. Then I worked furiously to get all the articles completed for the trade publication and sent them to my production vendors. Next, Neil and I plotted our road trip, got the oil changed and gassed up the vehicle, equipped with roadside safety items, snacks and breakfast cereal, so we could limit dining out during the 48 hour journey.

The weather was perfect for safe travel to Indiana U in Bloomington, where I bravely said goodbye to Kassidy, 18, seeing her excited to be independent again. We drove home in 12 hours, eager to rest up for the next journey to New York State. We had only 24 hours to repack our suitcases with black attire and extra layers knowing the temperatures would sink below zero upon our return to Minnesota. Once all was packed, I dusted the vacated room where Kassidy usually sleeps. Touching framed photos of her and pals, organizing hair scrunchies, loose change, and jewelry into piles; things she didn’t need at college helped me sweep away my tears. I adjusted to the quiet of her being gone. The clean room made me feel worse. That wasn’t her style, and now it really was obvious she was gone.

The next day, my spouse and I boarded a plane outfitted with double masks and a face shield, sanitizer wipes and more snacks to get us to a hotel near the cemetery in Queens. Dr. Fauci’s voice lamented in my head, “unnecessary travel should be avoided. Things are going to get worse before they get better, and people should stay home to avoid COVID-19. This was necessary. We tucked away any fear of germs, compartmentalizing feelings as we dealt with the gravity of the reason for our travels. We were cautious but trusting in our gear and the front line workers who protected the public and themselves.

After sleeping the most hours we could in the hotel, we ventured out to meet our relatives at a chapel. The beautiful burial service in Queens, NY was made more beautiful thanks to angels handling the weather. Over 10 inches of snow, 20 inches in some places, fell earlier in the week; we passed cars plowed in with snow up to the door handles. Where no vehicles were parked along curbs, the streets were clear. Instead, we were met by steady rain. It suitably poured all evening upon arrival through early morning, but by the time we had to walk to and from cars to the chapel at Mount Sinai and drive to the Montefiore Cemetery, the windshield wipers were intermittently swiping away a mild mist.

The umbrellas were near, but as our car followed the hearse, and we followed Rabbi Solomon on foot to Eileen’s resting place (near her late husband, Kurt, who died at 51), we saw blue sky ahead. Eileen called from the heavens to bless us with gorgeous skies and pleasantly dry 30 degrees. From above, her spirit watched each of her three sons take on the honor of shoveling dirt after we prayed, shoveled, listened, and then prayed together some more. His family accepted our inter-faith marriage and I honored their traditions. There was a fellow operating a tablet on a tripod; his zoom camera and mic allowed extended family and friends to witness the mournful scene over a private url link. The healing of our collective sorrow came as blue sky blared over us. We thanked Eileen silently for raising three sons with the values of knowing what is important in life: kindness, generosity and education, as they grace others with their productivity and contributions to society. Widowed early in life, Eileen went from supportive business partner to sole owner and manager of several movie cinemas. Her business acumen led to respect in a male-dominated world in business. Being together to admire all of her accomplishments and motherly actions was comforting. Later, our tears turned to smiles and stories during an outdoor lunch at a restaurant in Roslyn. We were able to dine in cool temps with the help of space heaters. Wine flowed as the adult cousins, aunts and uncles let weary red eyes rest on each other, and soak up the beauty of close relationships.