Funeral Words for Mom
On October 17, 2024 my mom, Helen Mabel Sveen Mickelson died peacefully in her home. She was 96 years old. On December 11, 2024 we gathered as a family to lay mom to rest next to dad in the Hudson Cemetery. It was a day of tears and giggles. I had the honor of writing some words to share at her memorial which took place at Bethal Lutheran Church on Third Street in Hudson, Wisconsin. I am saving the words here so I can remember and so you can know a little bit more about my mom and where I came from.
Helen hated funerals.
She avoided so many it was almost embarrassing.
But standing here today, I get it, funerals are very hard.
I’d rather not be here either. But this is very necessary.
I’ll warn you in advance I have a lot to say.
This takes me 7 minutes to read this without crying.
Let’s see how I do under stress.
Mom wore her love in plain sight with big hugs and lots of time spent talking.
Every phone call ended with “I love you.”
I know I’m preaching to the choir because we all knew Helen.
But let me remind you about her.
Not in grand sweeping statements, but in little things that are so Helen.
She liked to knit and bead. She tried rose maul painting.
She did ceramics even had a studio in our basement.
She tatted. No one tats anymore.
She could crochet, needlepoint, embroider, sew, and bedazzle.
She never met a surface she couldn’t improve with some embellishment.
She was a crafter who had no confidence in her own color choice abilities.
Yet, her skills were substantial.
Red was her favorite color. Anything and everything—red.
She was a beader who made hundreds of Christmas ornaments of her own design.
She sold them reluctantly but was so proud of herself for making a profit.
She was a knitter who asked me for help when in fact she was the one who could knit sweaters with pictures of kitties and puppies on them.
She bought dozens of books full of hundreds of patterns and ideas, just to have them.
She liked to sleep in because she stayed up late watching Hallmark movies or reading the latest book she couldn’t put down.
She read lots of bodice rippers and family sagas.
She loved a good magazine.
She was a cook who only wanted to eat sweets.
She loved Chia tea lattes and Frappuccinos.
She was quirky, exasperating, loveable and dear.
She was human.
She was a poor housekeeper and an extreme saver.
She squirreled away so many bits and pieces to use later.
She was not friends with technology but she scrolled Facebook watching things go by.
She played thousands of games of solitaire on her iPad
She was known to curse her iPhone but she learned to text.
She liked trees without leaves.
She saw the beauty of winter.
She collected sheep, mushrooms, gnomes, thimbles and every Peanuts cartoon she ever read.
She loved a good party, a good glass of wine and a good joke.
She liked Jack Daniels, Processo, penne Vodka, scallops, beets and rutabagas
The list of sweets is too long to mention, if it had sugar in it, she’d try it.
She was Norwegian.
She got to visit the motherland when she was 85 and it felt like going home.
She read the Our Daily Bread devotional every day.
She was Lutheran.
Her faith in God was unshakeable.
Though she did question Him sometimes, and got very angry other times at the way life was going. We all feel that way Helen.
She loved to drive. She loved to drive more than you do.
Many is the Sunday afternoon when she’d drive around just to look at houses.
She loved a good road trip.
She drove 15 hundred miles many times to visit her only grandson.
She drove from Colorado to Wisconsin to Connecticut every winter for nearly 30 years to have Christmas in Connecticut.
She preferred the highway to in-town driving and kept up with the truckers.
She was once stopped in Nebraska going way over the speed limit.
She was a widow for 48 years and that was hard.
She loved Dad deeply and now I suspect they are finally catching up.
And she was a mom we’ll miss.
I can handle the big pieces of grief, the expected times of mourning like today.
It’s the little things that will bug me for years.
I still think of dad whenever I smell cigarette smoke.
I know Brian and Nancy have the same: special “mom moments” that still call her to mind.
Here are a few tid-bits from each of us…
Brian knows not everyone loves fruitcake.
But every Christmas he knew mom needed some and sauced up a few loaves with lots of booze just for her.
One year when Brian was little they were coming home from a ride to see the spectacular Christmas lights in St Paul when they got back to Hudson and Mom commented on a large tree with only one string of lights on it.
Brian chirped up in the backseat, “They did the best they could with what they had.”
Mom used that phrase often for the rest of her life.
And mom, ever the driver, used to say “Pass ‘em Cookie.” This is another Brian memory. Apparently one of we little girls whispered in Grandpa Cookie’s ear when he was stuck behind a slow driver. Pass ‘em Cookie. Mom claimed that phrase too.
One of my mom memories is when the time change happens twice a year. Mom and I had a habit of calling each other on the first evening and saying: It’s 6 o’clock and look how dark, it is! And in the spring of course it was It’s 6 o’clock and look how light, it is!
I will miss sending mom mail, thinking of new ways decorate her letters and packages that would surprise her (and Paul the gracious neighbor who collected her mail for her.)
I will think of her on Monday nights and Sunday afternoons when football is on. I knew enough not to call. She didn’t like the fact that games lasted till midnight on the east coast but she watched, especially if the Packers were playing.
If I need to cut a piece of paper and only fabric scissors are within reach, I will actually get up and go find paper cutting scissors. For Mom there were paper cutting scissors and fabric cutting scissors. End of story.
When Nancy began her adult life in NYC, she and mom created a tradition of having tea at Christmastime in the city. They went to The Plaza, The Mark and many other posh venues, but mom’s favorite was the Golden Harp Room at The Helmsley. They always enjoyed the fancy China, the small bites and sweets, and the cherished time together.
The one constant question from Mom whenever she saw Nancy would be "Are those shoes new?" as a big smile crossed her face. While Mom did not wear high heels herself, she was forever admiring Nancy’s collection!
To say Helen loved football is an understatement. She was devoted to The Packers, but could tell you statistics and details for all the pro teams and players. Nancy will remember fondly the way that Helen and Dominick bonded over football, which then spilled over into Mom’s addiction to College Basketball and the lead up to The Final Four every year. She easily stopped texting or calling Nancy during a game – to connect with Dominick instead because he was watching and had an opinion!
Both Nancy and Dom will always cherish the many dinners and vacations they took with Helen and all of the laughter in between.
Zach remembers his Granhelen like this:
She liked raisins, but only after making them “happy” by soaking them in several liquors, Grand Marnier being especially important.
She would speak a statement clearly, let it hang there, and then laugh with a scoff.
She always had an “S” —a surprise— for Zach, which involved hiding a treat in one of her hands and asking him to pick one. Sometimes there’d be an S in both hands.
She was opinionated and stubborn, but her kindness was more forceful.
These are just a few of our memories. There are many more.
Helen was so proud of her family.
She bragged about all of our accomplishments.
She loved us for just for being us, for being hers.
We each knew she loved us individually and dearly.
This is why it’s so very hard for us to lose our biggest fan.
We love you mom.