Today marks one month since my mother passed. Once month since I’ve heard her voice, her laugh, or given her a hug. She lives on in my heart and memories, but we all know that is inadequate.
It was said by my brother and a close family friend that it is difficult to put one’s life and impact into a tribute just a few short moments long. How can you fully encapsulate a person and their impact by taking an hour on a day talking about them? You can’t, really. The only way to truly show who a person was is to measure the depth of grief one feels after their loss, and by looking at their legacy.
Although I don’t feel as though I will ever be able to live up to who my mother was as a person; not a fraction of her character, hard work, or love, it is still my life’s goal to do so. She would tell you different. She would tell you that she is beyond proud of my brother and me and the men we have become. We have no doubt she would be please with how we’ve handled the situation so far and how the family has rallied together to watch out for one another.
She taught us that. She taught us that family is most important, after God.
In trying to express who she was to me, I have decided to share my tribute to her from the Celebration of life.
Here is a lightly edited version of my tribute to Mom.
I get a lot from my mom as well. As Bree mentioned earlier, I get my love of reading and learning from my mom and I get my love of horror movies.
I think we all get a little bit of our dark humor from mom as well, and I’ll explain some of that here in a minute. But love of family and hard work. It’s one thing that I noticed from mom a lot, actually.
Walks to Remember
I remember growing up when I was in kindergarten at Mary A. Goetz elementary down in Ludlow. I was in kindergarten, so you went half a day and my mom would walk me to school every day. And then she would come in the afternoons and she would pick me up and we would walk home.
Sometimes we would stop at the bakery and get something to eat or we’d go to IGA, sometimes we’d walk on River Road and look at the sites down there. And sometimes she would take me to the library. And I remember she never said no to any book I wanted to check out.
I remember bringing her a copy of Moby Dick, and I’m like carrying this huge book, and I wanted to check it out, and she never said, no, honey, you’re too dumb. She let me check the book out. It didn’t matter what it was.
And it really built into me a love of reading and a love of, A love of learning, and it was something that we carried on up into adulthood. We would talk about the books that we had and shared, and as Bree was saying earlier, she would talk about, or she would let Bree borrow the left behind books that we would read, and then Bree would talk to to Nana about those when she went to Nana’s library to check out another copy. But I remember those books are still on her shelf now.
She Loved My Dad Fiercly
Dad, as most of you know, has macular degeneration, he started losing his eyesight in the early 90s. So mom would read things to him. And those books were one of the things, and countless other books, but those books were what I remember.
She has turned every page of those books and she’s read every word of those books aloud to dad. And that’s just who she was.
She loved dad fiercely like that. There was no manual that she read on what to do when your husband goes blind, when your mate goes blind. There was no TikTok or YouTube videos or anything that she could pick up to figure out what to do or, you know, 5 steps to love your blind spouse, one way to not to die when your blind spouse is driving.
That would have been a really short book. The one way to do that is to not drive with your blind spouse, but there were plenty of times. The light’s red, Joe. The light’s red, Joe. The light’s red, Joe.
No Child Left Behind?
But she loved those left behind books, and I distinctly remember.
She was always into end time stuff. She had rapture books on her shelf and books about the rapture and she had books on end times. We watched a thief in the night from the 70s.
Those were Christian horror movies. they would... They were all about people being left behind, and Mom and Darrow, I was like, you want to be left behind? You want to get eaten by a dragon?
You want to die and go to hell? You want your head job? It was a lot of that stuff.
I remember in the ‘80s we came home, and Christian and I had been out playing, and we walked into the living room there on highway in Ludlow, and mom and dad, chairs, obviously, where they were, the TV was on, their shirts were hanging on their chairs, and their pants were draped over, the chair, and their shoes were down there, and their socks were shoved in their shoes. Ice cold bottles of coke were still sitting on the end table next to them, and they were just dripping with condensation.
Chris and I looked at each other and we’re like, well, mom and dad are running around somewhere here naked. I’m like, I don’t really know if we want to scratch that itch and try to find out where they are or what they’re doing. But we figured we’d throw caution to the wind, try to find out where they were.
So we looked high and low in that house when we were kids seemed massive. We couldn’t find them. So we finally came back to the living room and were scratching our heads and we’re looking at their clothes.
It just looked like they vanished like they disappeared. Well, Chris being the older, smarter one. Grabbed me by the shoulders and said, “oh my gosh, the rapture happened!”
And I’m like, “well, the rapture can’t have happened. I’m still here.” I’m like, I...
We all expected you to be here, and we didn’t expect me to be. You fine. We understand how he’s starting to make, you know, plans, party lists in his head, and planning on what he’s going to do to be left behind, and I’m freaking out.
Like, I don’t want to be here. I’m gonna go to hell because Chris is gonna make it through the tribulation period. He’s not going to keep me alive.
And then all of a sudden, we heard this booming voice that we thought was the voice of God. “Are you rapture ready?” God, we turn around and there’s mom and dad standing there in the dining room.
Mom is doubled over laughing at us. Dad is saying, “that’s why you need to be ready to go!” Now don’t, this wasn’t like some kind of evangelistic thing that they did, you know?
I think I got saved five times just that day, though, but... But mom was just, she loved that stuff. She just, she had, she had that, that sense of humor to her.
Reading Between the Lines and All The Lines
She loved my dad and she read those books to him, and you could tell that they had a dedication to one another. And that’s another thing I get, and another thing that I see that Chris shares as well with his family, is that love and that dedication.
She would read everything to him. She would read his subtitles on movies. Sometimes she would say to change a movie because there were too many subtitles, and she didn’t want to read them.
She would read ingredients, she’d go to the store. It was just who she was. It was just built into her to love my dad.
And she never, She never lectured us on. This is how you love your spouse. She never lectured us on how to go to work.
She never lectured us on going to church. She just did it. It was just who she was.
There was nothing. There was no special time where she gave us lessons. She just lived her life like that.
And that was our example. After they realized that dad had immaculate degeneration, and he was forced into early retirement, there was a period of time where he couldn’t work. And mom picked up extra shifts.
She picked up different shifts. She worked longer hours. She worked to take care of the family that they had built, because that’s just what you did.
Big Blue and Rain Walking
And she loved us, and she loved us fiercely. I remember another time we were walking home from school in Ludlow, and it felt like it was 30 miles away from our house, but it was only about a mile away. And Chris and I were walking out.
We’re walking through the dangerous, deadly streets of Ludlow, Kentucky, through the alleyways and skipping by bullies and all that stuff. And we were walking home one day, but dad had this truck. It was it was a GMC 2500.
And it was an old Coca-Cola truck, had a lift gate on the back and bought that because he worked in heating and air. It helped him pick up the the big units and put them in the back of the truck, and it also helped when you had a fat kid to help them get in the truck when you’re going to church; it was a massive truck, and he painted it blue because it was Coca-Cola red when he got it. And one of the agreement was he had to paint it a different color.
Cover up all the Coke. So they took it and had it painted, this sparkly blue color. And then he went to the Richwood flea market and got this vanity plate that said, big blue, and he put it on the front of this truck.
Now, dad was the only one that could drive this truck. He was 6’3, about 300 pounds. Mom was 5 foot nothing, you know, a hundred soaking wet, tiny woman.
And she never, she rarely drove the truck and she didn’t drive because when you open up the passenger door, like one of those rope ladders would fall out. You have to climb up to get into the side of the truck. But we were walking home from school one day, and it started to rain.
Now, we’re boys. We don’t care that it’s raining. doesn’t bother us at all. But we, uh, we heard this this truck or something coming at us, “blub, blub, blub, blub.” And we were like, what in the world? We look up the road. We’re about a, you know, 8th of a mile, quarter mile away, something like that from the house.
And we go, blub-blub-blub-blub when you look up and we see Big Blue coming at us, but there’s nobody driving it. And this is well before Tesla. This is way before Waymo or Elon Musk, there’s no self-driving cars. And we’re staring at this science fiction wonder, this truck driving at us. And as it got closer, we saw this little bitty tiny bump over the steering wheel and these determined eyes.
And we’re like, what in the world, blub-blub-blub-blub, then at fire? He just pulls over to the side of the road. The door opens, the rope ladder falls out.
And there’s mom standing on the driver’s seat. Get in, boys. I don’t want y’all to have to walk in the rain.
And we’re like, all right, mom. So we climb up the rope ladder and hop in this truck, and she whips it around, and, you know, she’s flying, always, she’s turning the car and stuff, and but she loved us so much. She didn’t want us to have to walk in the rain.
That story is always stuck out of me.
Friday Fright Nights
But she also loved it so much that she would do our Friday night fright nights where we’d pop popcorn, we’d get candy, and we would watch horror and scary movies. And we would just be scared to death watching these movies.
And I mean, we’re not talking about, I mean, like, of course, we did watch The Thief and the Night movies, but we’re like Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street. These kind of movies that just flat scare you. As little kids.
And afterwards, though, was a loving kind and generous mother that she was, we would get ready for bed and we would go in waiting for her to come tuck us in. She would reach out from under the bed, grab her ankles, and scream to scare the crap out of us to make sure that all the urine was out before we laid down and went to bed. But she did love us.
She loved us, and she loved her grandchildren. And I strive every day to be like her, to be as dedicated as she was as self-sacrificial and as loyal and as hard a worker into love as fiercely as she did.
She Will Live On
And as you can tell, this has been an emotional time, and a difficult time.
We’re trying to find things to say. We’re scouring our minds for memories to think about to hold on to her. And it’s difficult, as Chris and Tim said, to fill up 10 or 15 minutes, with all the things that she was, and the example that she was.
But the depth of sorrow that we’re feeling right now is proof of the impact that she had on us and will continue to have on us. And I remember I didn’t want to leave the hospital room the night that she passed. I didn’t want her to be alone.
And I didn’t want to leave because I knew when I left, it would be over. I wouldn’t be able to see her again and wouldn’t be able to look at her anymore. And In that same way, today has kind of been a difficult day, because it seems like it’s final. And I don’t want it to be final. But it won’t be.
It won’t be the last time we think about her. It won’t be the last time we talk about her. She’ll live on in you, Dad, as you remember all the years that you had together and the love that you shared. Your first Valentine’s Day, your first kiss, your honeymoon, your wedding, the joy of having Chris and the joy of having me, the highs and the lows that you experienced.
She’ll continue on, Chris, as you build your family, and build a life for you and grow those tomatoes and you finally be able to win a competition.
She’ll live on when you, Tina, and Allison, as you love us fiercely and self-sacrifice to take care of us Barker boys. She passed her boys on to good women. And you all have learned from her and gained from her as well. And every time you create, every time you craft, every time you water her plants. She’ll live on.
She’ll live on a me as, I strive to tell her stories of her family remind people of who she was and the mother that she was.
She’ll live on in Hunter and Trish. as they keep others safe in the law enforcement field, and as they grow those great grandbabies.
She’ll live on in Caleb and Kinsey, as they help people become financially secure, as you start your home and build your life and start your family.
She’ll live on through you, Logan, as you follow a long line of problem solvers and fixers.
She’ll live on you with you, Emily, as you carry on her legacy, as you follow in her footsteps.
She’ll live on you, Makayla, as you create movies telling the stories of your generation.
She’ll live on in you, Bree. As you write the narratives of your life and time.
She’ll live on in Zara, and the next great grandchildren, and the next great grandchild after that, because they’ll learn about their great Nana from all of us.
And she’ll live on every time we gather on that porch, swing on that swing, and eat tomatoes, and laugh and talk and share the juicy gossip of the neighborhood, the church.
Because she’s in all of us. If it wasn’t for your love, dad, and mom’s love, we wouldn’t be here. This family wouldn’t exist.
So we owe it to her, and we owe it to you, dad, to continue to live the lives that glorify God, hat love our families, and that serve others.
Thank you all so much for coming.
