VICKI LYNN ANDREASEN's Obituary
A Eulogy for Vicki Lynn Andreasen
Over the span of her 54 years, Vicki Lynn Andreasen wore far more hats than the ones hanging in her closet. She was the daughter of Mildred and Philip. She was a wife to one, Andrew. She was a sister to two, Randy and Mark. She was a mother to three, Jason, Travis, and Julia. And she was a grandmother to four, Kylie, Alani, Jordan, and another she didn't get to meet.
At different times she was also a friend, a student, a saleswoman, a homemaker, a bookworm, a badass, a pain in the ass, a baker, a crafter, a smoker, an advocate, a dog lover, and that barely scratches the surface.
Two nights ago, I asked my daughter what she remembered about Grandma. "Well, she liked to talk a lot." And truer words were never spoken. If you got her on the phone or sat down next to her, she could give you elaborate, winding treatises on national politics, whatever the high-profile trial of the day was, her battles with technology, how much she loved that avocado green stove in the 80s, or the beauty of the latest episode of her favorite radio show. She always had an opinion and never hesitated to offer it. Never.
And there's a lot for us to remember from those conversations. We'll miss those conversations, a lot of them anyway. It's jarring to not hear her now. It's hard to think we won't hear her - at least in a literal sense - again.
But as much as she liked to talk and let you in on whatever popped into her mind, we all know that one of her greatest joys came when she shut up. When she put on her headphones, dropped the turntable's needle, and allowed a songwriter to do the talking for a while, that's when a real smile would appear.
Of course, she had her crutches for anxiety and her crutches for pain that she came to depend on, but music was always her drug of choice. Her records were her escape and those journeys - be they with early Pearl Jam or Steely Dan - were to be respected.
I still remember the late night - a school night, mind you - when she put Willie Nelson's "Red Headed Stranger" on and let that volume knob spin. I hesitated, but then went to the living room to ask her to turn it down. She scoffed and I slinked back to bed to (eventually) enjoy the concert.
Looking back, I'm glad she didn't give in. At that moment she wanted to hear Willie shake the walls. And she deserved it. Over the years she'd sacrificed and championed on behalf of every person in that house being kept up. The least she was owed was a few unnaturally loud Willie Nelson songs.
This woman fought, often a hundred times harder for her family than for herself. She argued with teachers, pleaded with doctors, stared down school administrators - all for the benefit of her husband and her kids. What's more, she was perhaps not the person you'd think of as a "natural born mother." And yet, she still remembered to let the kids lick the mixer when she made those marble cakes for their birthdays. She still made sure - with the help of her husband, of course - that every school outfit was colorful and every holiday felt full. And maybe that speaks even more to how much she valued her role as "Mom."
In her later years, her fight got much harder. Her mobility got stifled and the crutches she leaned on proved less helpful. But when she felt her time coming, she reached for her husband's hand. She turned to her kids.
It seems fitting that she left us on a day meant for you to reflect on the importance and the love of a mother. Those of us who were fortunate to know her good times and her difficult times will remember her for the ways she looked out for us, even when she couldn't look out for herself.
In hindsight, it seems she got one last Mother's Day gift: The chance to visit and talk again with her own mother, Mildred, who she lost just a handful of years earlier. That conversation is surely just getting going.
Mom, we miss you. But we know you're in a better spot. One with music. One where politicians finally take your advice. One with good coffee. One where your dogs are beside you. One where we'll meet up with you.
Until then, crank it up.
What’s your fondest memory of VICKI?
What’s a lesson you learned from VICKI?
Share a story where VICKI's kindness touched your heart.
Describe a day with VICKI you’ll never forget.
How did VICKI make you smile?
