By Mom — Part 3 of a long, 3-part letter (more like a booklet) she wrote to Tom at college in February 1982. Twenty years later Dad mentioned “that wonderful letter Mom wrote to you in college about a winter adventure we had.”

Thomas Wayne Beaver
Born
January 26th, 1956

 

On the occasion of your 26th Birthday — January 26th, 1982

Better late than never — it is now February 8, 1982 — Monday — 2 P.M. A dark dreary day, with the forecast calling for rain, sleet, snow. But it is one day closer to springtime — your graduation — and hopefully time for you to spend some time at home with us.

Dear Son Tom,

“Happy belated Birthday”. I’ve been thinking about you so much lately, before your birthday, on your birthday, and since your birthday — but until now haven't been able to write you like I promised weeks ago.

Twenty-six years old — how the years fly. I find myself, more & more, late at night, when it is quiet and everyone is in bed, thinking back to when all of you were little. I think of all the special times that Mothers remember.

Tom and Mom, Feb. 1956

Such a pretty baby, round & plump, pretty complexion, black curly hair. How I loved to make a big curl on the top of your head. How proud I always was to dress you and “Billy” up and go to visit Grandma & Grandpa Johnson. My favorite was new blue jeans, rolled up cuffs with a bright flannel shirt. Grandma worked at a childrens shop in St. Anns and was always able to get nice things for me when they were on sale. I remember especially a coat outfit she brought home for you. Tan trench coat with fur lining, collar & cuffs. You were only about 2 years old. I didn’t know if you were just in love with that coat or especially shy, because we would go to visit Grandma and you would just want to stand by Dad and not take the coat off. Such a Daddy’s boy — he had a hard time leaving the house without you crying to go with him.

I remember when you were too little to cross the creek (or thought you were) down by the farm house. Dad would have to carry you across. How thrilled you and “Billy” were when we would pack up each weekend to come out to the “farm.” The good times with the pony cart & ponies, horses, Peru the burro, the goats that would eat our clothes when I would hang them on the line. The wheat bugs that invaded the front porch of the farm house one day. You and Billy and Kathy were all covered with them — in your hair, etc. I didn't know which of you to take care of first & besides I couldn’t stand to touch a bug — but I managed to debug all of you.

Then there was school and the stomach aches, the good grades, the compliments at open house — what a good student you were, sometimes bored, but creative, showing a talent for art and writing. A couple of scurmishes you had in schoool — (the knife at grade school — and leaving school without permission in high school). That’s not bad — those are the only two I can remember in 12 years of school.

When was it — your were too grown up to kiss Dad & I goodnight? That was one of the milestones in your growing up years.

I remember how hard it was for you to get out and get started cutting grass — but how proud you were when you finished and could see how much nicer everything looked. How you would daydream while you were working and made time go faster for you.

I remember your friendship with Rob — and your discontent the last 2 hears of high school. Your newfound faith in God and the Bible and your happiness because you had found what you were searching for.

I remember your good times with Penny — and how my heart ached for you & her when you had to make a decision about your relationship with her.

Your mixed feelings — excitement, fear, and the feeling of starting a great adventure when you started college in Springfield. A few more gray hairs for me and a feeling of great loss & sadness when the time finally came.

But we have had a lot of good times on your visits home — Dad and I always look forward to your homecomings.

It’s been a wonderful 26 years and there are very few things I would change if I had it to do over again. And we are looking forward to many, many more good times, good years, good memories.

Keep searching Tom. Even when you find what you want, there are always ways to make it better. Live each day. Always remember how much love is here at home for you.

Little Things

By Willa Hoey

It’s the little things we do and say

That mean so much as we go our way,

A kindly deed can lift a load

From weary shoulders on the road,

Or a gentle word, like summer rain,

May soothe some heart and banish pain.

What joy or sadness often springs

From just the simple little things!

Love,

Mom