Jackie Krause

Mom had 97 pairs of shoes… that was after she cut back post-retirement.   She drilled me for years that my job should she become ill was to make sure her slippers matched her robe/outfit and that she had “a proper cup of coffee, not that sh*t in a paper cup”.  With the help of the community, I kept that promise.  Hospice raised an eyebrow to coffee through the g-tube, but I told them that I promised and that was that.  This photo was from her retirement trip with Dad to Australia and New Zealand.  She might ask why I picked one with a giant sheep and ram, but look at her smile.  My mom loved that trip.   Their next big trip was supposed to be to Hawaii, but then cancer struck. My mom loved being a teacher and then school principal.  She was proud of her achievement as school superintendent, a post still male-dominated, and shocked that we managed to pull off a surprise party for when she completed her doctorate.  We were proud of her, just as she was proud of every one of her students.   She taught at St. Ferdinand in Chicago and then Queen of All Saints in Michigan City, IN.  When we moved to IL she started at Transfiguration school in Wauconda and then she moved on to the Fox River Grove school system.  She loved her time in both the Catholic and the public school systems, each providing its own challenges and its own rewards.   There was only one thing Mom loved more than running into someone she knew:  spending time with her grandkids.  She adored Millie (Emilia) and Harry.  She was so proud to tell people that Millie was named after her mom and Harry was named after my Dad.  When the cancer started to scramble her cognition and she had a hard time expressing the ideas she so desperately wanted to communicate, we would show her a photo Millie & Harry to cheer her up.  She would hug that photo.She hugged me the day I told my parents the cancer was back.  I couldn’t get the words out and started crying, so she hugged me and told me she’d be here.  I would have done anything to make that happen.  Love you, Mom.  No matter what.