Hedwig (Heidi) Muller Williams May 24, 1935 - March 8, 1997 Written and copyright by Dion McInnis and presented for the surviving Williams children: Barbara, Mike and Jim It was late in the afternoon this past Saturday. Things weren’t going well at the hospital. Heidi Williams – our mother, mother in-law, sister, wife, grandmother – wasn’t responding. The procession of good byes was beginning, each of the family and friends taking their turn to look in disbelief. I held our four-year old next to her bed in ICU. Barbara asked him if he would like to kiss grandma on the forehead. "No," he said, "I don’t want to wake her up." Oh if it were that easy. Were it that easy, a long line of family and friends would have formed around the hospital, each of us waiting our turn to give the awakening kiss. How could she create such a line? My perspective as son in-law is more than a tad biased and a tad under-informed. I knew her for only half of my life. But I never felt like the "in-law" part of my title applied anyway. Just like everyone else in her life, I was truly part of hers, and she part of mine. She was generous to all; the only thing she didn’t give me was an excuse to tell mother in-law jokes. But don’t we all have part of the story to tell? Each of you here today is part of this eulogy, in what you’re thinking in what you’ve shared and in what you’ll share with each other later. She lives forever in our memories of who she is and what she’s done, and we can offer her no greater honor than that. We all have our stories to tell images we remember and sounds that still echo in our ears. It would be an insult to the wonderful friendships each of us had with her for me to try to convey them all. We can only find out through each others’ stories how it is that we all loved the same things: her feisty smiles and her joy-filled smiles, her laughter, her hard work, her....cooking! Today she is cooking while Oma and Butch stay underfoot, and she loves it. And we’re happy for her. Happy is what she always wanted each of us to be. She was much to many: generous, loving, hard working....hard headed. Always doing for others like her kids, husband, family, friends, friends of her kids, grandkids, neighbors, police officers, bowling buddies, bridge partner, woman’s club and garden club pals...she loved to be around her friends. All those groups are represented here today, and the family truly appreciates your being here. Sorrow is dampened and happy memories extended because of all of us sharing. Sharing the legends: The hands and arms that could wring dry a towel that most of us thought was already dry. The same arms with the "love you" bear hugs and the warming wave as she said good-bye; Her feast-or-famine approach to raising rabbits as a child in WWII Germany... a style which resulted in a lot of dead and inedible rabbits. Cooking that was modified over the years – a pinch and a schkoop at a time – to be some of the best that any of us tasted. Her grandmothering style that can serve God in His programming of future grandmothers. She always provided all her grandchildren with attention, love, goodies, affection...She would do this quick, staccato steps feigning pursuit of the little ones. Who giggled more, her or the kids? And no holiday ever went less than fully recognized: Valentines, Easter, St. Nicks and her favorite, Christmas. Holidays weren’t days, they were celebrations. She loved reading to the grandkids and the dream of doing that again inspired her hopes for once again being able to read aloud in the future. She can do that now. This woman who once wanted to be a kindergarten teacher is surely reading to a bunch of little cherubs now...and I’m willing to bet that they have heavenly streusel crumbs on their wings already. She was tough, durable and strong. Growing up in WWII Germany with her sister while her mom put in incredible hours to take care of her children while her father was lost in Russia, was not easy. Yet she was always spunky. Full of mischief. She never let her child inside die, and we all benefited. She was a model for "keeping your chin up." So much so that many thought she would pull through this recent trip to the hospital like she had done on so many trips to the emergency room, and as she battled cancer. She loved to share the child like wonder she held for fun gifts, holidays, cold snaps and the slightest hint of snow. Mr. and Mrs. Claus were put to shame by the fun she brought to Christmas day and Christmas decorating. She built a sanctuary of laughter, aromas, tastes, and images that made us all feel young and kid-like again. I still wear the Charlie Brown sweater she gave me many years ago. My sons know the sweater goes on when my employees are getting too grumpy and they need a smile. She liked the company of friends. Especially at a party! Two that stick in my mind are her 60th birthday some 22 months ago and the 25th anniversary for Henry and Heidi. How many of you always thought that was one word? One. HenryandHeidi. Neat. The anniversary was held at Barb’s and my first house, largely made possible by the office studio conversion that half of HenryandHeidi built while the other half supervised. I was chief gopher. Anyway, I remember the surprise, the quick "Achhh" and the laughter as the balloons popped and friends cheered. And many of those same friends were at her 60th birthday. Forever friends. She didn’t mind working hard to maintain those friends as they moved away or as the relocations of US Air Force life separated the Williams family from others. She worked at those friendships. And don’t we all know the legend of the housecoat worn until noon and the shorts and open toe shoes she wore while messing around with her plants? Or of coffee brewing, slippers on, newspaper spread out...the hominess of the kitchen was in full effect before anyone else woke up. She gave us much. And now we have our memories. Those will keep her alive forever. And we thank you mom, grandmom, sister, and wife for all of it. Frederick Faber said, "There are souls in this world which have the gift of finding joy everywhere and of leaving it behind them when they go." She is gone, and we hold on to the images of her waving hand as she played good-bye games with the children, to the sounds of her laughter and raspy whispers as she got tickled with the cold weather or mad at the ill-mannered people in the restaurant, to that big hug that said..."I love you." Well, mom, we love you, too. For you, and selfishly for ourselves, we’ll keep you alive in the memories you left us. When Santa comes, or lentil soup brews, or grandkids play in the sun at the cemetery...we will have kissed your forehead and you’ll awaken. We miss you. 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