She Still Lives in Our Hearts
When I hear of married people not getting along with their in-laws, it makes me appreciate how lucky I am to have had wonderful ones, whose company I have enjoyed, and whom I’ve loved and respected. Today marks the first anniversary of the passing of my wonderful mother-in-law, Emiko Gumescheimer, the best anyone could have ever asked for.
We first met over dinner when Susan and I were dating. Emiko seemed very quiet and shy that night and I worried that she might not like me. But soon after that, I discovered her great sense of humor, and felt welcomed by her during our visits home. She was always working tirelessly for us when we came home. It seemed like she was only off her feet when it was time to eat the meals she spent all day cooking. Her hard work often continued into the evening when she would do some sewing for Susan or some other bit of organizing that just had to get done that night. Emiko was incredibly fastidious. She kept an incredibly clean house, and although there was lots of stuff in every closet and nook, she knew exactly where everything went and how it should be put away.
Emiko and James met while he was stationed in Japan during his time in the Navy. I often thought about what it must have been like for her to leave behind friends and family in Japan and come from such a different culture to live here, first in the San Diego area and then to tiny Bazine and Cimarron, Kansas. But Emiko made the best of wherever she was planted. She made friends easily and found those bits of her culture to hold on to in America.
Emiko had the rarest of qualities in her, and I have met precious few who share it. If you met her you would agree. Everyone who knew her, even in the most casual way, everyone who was a part of her life, felt like they had a special relationship with her – a connection that was somehow deeper than one with the average person. That was evident in the packed church the day of her funeral. In addition to loving family and friends who were there, people from the hairdressers, the bank and the cancer center came. Even people from the JC Penney store who always chatted with her when she came by. They knew her, and the friendship between them was real. I know it had a lot to do with her beautiful smile and her easy laughter, but she really did care about other people, and she appreciated good service and help from those she met while she was shopping or doing business in town.

Cimarron Kansas, 2007
During the last couple years of her life, she fought the most aggressive kind of lung cancer, and suffered through a year of chemotherapy. They were tough times for her. Emiko always took pride in her appearance, and made sure she was dressed nicely, if not fashionably, when she left the house. Losing her hair and watching her body suffer the effects of treatment, must have been difficult. When her treatments tapered off, and her hair returned, it came in full, and in a silky silver color. Susan and I thought it looked chic and tried to convince her to keep her silver hair, but she wouldn’t have it. She went back to brunette, but she was a classy lady no matter what her hair color was.
She beat her cancer, got through her treatments and conquered her disease the way she traveled through life; with kindness, dignity, and laughter while making friends along the way.
When loved ones pass in peoples lives, you sometimes hear them say, “If only I could have told her I love you one more time.” We never missed an opportunity to say that to her, but it doesn’t make us miss her any less. We miss her terribly a year later. And although going home is still as loving and comfortable as it ever was, her absence is deeply felt. But Emiko still lives in our hearts and our memories and in those special relationships she had. She lives another place too; Inside my beautiful wife, Susan. I see Emiko in her eyes and in her smile. I hear Emiko’s laugh inside of hers and Susan’s fastidiousness and flair for fashion is a product of her mom’s. And that rare quality that Emiko had, the special connection she shared with people in her life, inhabits Susan too.
Posted: January 20th, 2010 under Uncategorized.
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