Mom.....

My mom passed away on August 1 after battling dementia for several years. That's a story that I'm not ready to write yet, but one I did have was the honor of writing her eulogy.

My mom was my best friend. I used to talk to her almost daily before dementia stole her from us. I wanted to honor her in the best way I could at the end...I think she'd be okay with me sharing it.

I miss you every day mom.

The Eulogy of Sharalynn Kay (Hansen) Campbell May 2, 1943 - August 1, 2026

When my dad passed nearly 10 years ago, I said he was a builder, but the truth of the matter is that my mom was the support.    She held us together.  

She began her support when my parents started their marriage quite young, and my dad was still in chiropractic college.   They had Kim soon after, and Mom took care of things at home so Dad could complete his degree and follow his dream.   

If you want to talk about support, look at the three of us.   Man, what she wouldn’t do for her kids.   And I mean fiercely. She took care of us through broken bones, skinned knees, and broken hearts.    She stood up to us when our mouths were a little smart (which was a lot), and we all knew it was time to back down when mom raised her voice.    One time when we were horsing around on one of those infamous Iowa snow days, she walked into the living room, stepped over Kim and I and gave Jamie a pop.   When he asked why, she said “because you were the closest!”   We all think it’s because she knew he needed straightening out the most.   

She supported us through divorces, sick kids, money troubles, when we lost our dad, and all the hard times life threw at us.    

When her parents’ health was failing, she supported them.   She moved to Audubon to live with them while my grandmother was sick with cancer, and helped care for my grandfather after she passed, even when it meant being away from home.

She was my dad’s “office girl” for many years.   That was how wonderful their relationship was, they worked along side one another for so many years.  She took care of the business side of Washington East so dad could focus on taking care of his patients.  

She taught us how to love.    She loved us all without judgement and without reservation no matter what we did.    I know personally there were things my mom went through for me that I know she suffered for, and she did it willingly for the simple fact that she loved me.   No matter the choices we made, she always supported us with love.

She loved my dad.   I wanted my whole life to have the love that they had.   They fought, oh I remember some doozies, but they also loved with a love that endured for 53 years of marriage and that continued for her until the second she passed.  The greatest joy I have in her no longer being here, is that she is once again reunited with him, and I know now that she is once again dancing with him up in heaven.

My mom was faithful, and I believe that this is what her entire life was built on.   Dad always said she could know the world was ending tomorrow and still go to bed and get a good night’s sleep because she has such strong faith.    She tried to instill that support into us as well, and we went to church and Sunday school, EVERY SUNDAY.    Even IF we were tired, grumpy, or had a bad hangover the day after we graduated from college.    Thanks for that mom, I envy it, and I promise to keep working towards finding that degree of faithfulness for myself.

When this ugly disease began to steal my mom, it was difficult, but still she remained.   She insisted on being at as many family events as she could, she enjoyed sitting in the family area and watching her great grandkids run laps around the assisted living while riding on her wheeled walker, and when we told them to keep it down, she said “if they don’t like it, they can shove it.”  

Her stubbornness remained.   My dad would have said it’s because she was an Audubon Dane.  When we realized it was time to take away the car, we sat her down and had the talk.   She insisted she was fine, and we were NOT going to take away her beloved red Acadia.   So…..she hid the keys from us.    She thought she had us fooled.    The ONE time her disease worked in our favor, she forgot where she hid them and never was able to find them again.   

She developed a “colorful language.”   You can ask anyone of the people who cared for her in her last year.   We laughed at some of our favorite phrases she used frequently.   She used nicknames for people when she couldn’t remember their names, and most of the people at her assisted living were named “Georgia,” because Georgia was one person she did remember there.   To the family, one of our favorites will always be….”got it?   GOOD!”   This is how we knew she meant business.

There were times when we felt like she was gone, and then out of the blue, a little piece of wisdom would emerge, or a memory, or a tiny piece of her.   When my husband suddenly passed away, and she was in the throws of a dementia moment in the ER here in Clarinda, when my sister told her what had happened, her first response was “I need to go to her.”   The instinct to be our support never left her.   She was, and always will be, there for us.

In her final days, when she started to go, she still managed to take care of us.    That big ol’ heart of hers kept beating for days as Kim, Jamie and I sat with her.   We slept on her floor and made a recliner out of her wheelchair.    Her breathing was labored and loud, and we kept waiting for that last breath, and she kept fooling us.    To the point where our punch drunk selves accused her of playing with us.   At one point we were sure she had gone.   It had been a full minute since her last breath, and we cried and smiled and held her hand.    We sent Jamie for the nurse, and as he walked into the hallway he heard Kim and I start to laugh.   Because she started breathing again….Her heart couldn’t let go.   When it finally did a few hours later….we were ready too.  

Mom, there are not enough words to thank you for the loving support with which this family was built on, and that is because of you.    Kim, Jamie, and I will be okay because you taught us how to be.   You taught us the importance of supporting each other in times of hardship, and you taught us that if nothing else fails, Jamie is the closest, so blame him.

I love you.   Now go dance with Dad.