Elisabeth

I can still remember the first time I met her. I had traveled to Switzerland for Christmas to meet my boyfriend's family. It was the first time I had spent Christmas away from my own family and my anxiety levels were off the charts as we rode from the airport to their home outside Zurich. Would they like me? Would I like them? Would we have anything in common? Would we be able to communicate? And, most importantly, would I come back from this trip with a ring on my finger?

She was waiting in the kitchen. Tall, impossibly thin, with perfectly coiffed jet black hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I had ever seen, she interrupted whatever cooking, baking, canning, cleaning she was up to, smiled warmly, and welcomed me.

I have never been so intimidated by anyone in my life. . .before or since.

My mother-in-law, who passed away yesterday, was truly one of a kind. In her eighty-nine years on earth she worked as a nurse, a seamstress, and a writer. Her home could have (and should have) graced the pages of House Beautiful. She almost single-handedly raised three boys, maintained a garden that would have turned Martha Stewart green with envy, and created culinary dishes worthy of a five star chef.

No wonder I was intimidated.

Our first encounter set the stage for the next thirty years. Seeing a romantic New Year's Eve listening to church bells ring as we stood overlooking a twinkling Swiss village as the perfect opportunity to pop the question, I was devastated that my eventual husband hadn't gotten the memo. Turning to the only female within view, I poured my disappointed heart out to my future mother-in-law only to have her respond with the less than sympathetic, "Last year he brought Nancy, this year he brought you, who knows who he'll bring next year."

That was my mother-in-law - always direct, always honest, rarely tactful. She spoke her mind and had an opinion about everything, which often led to someone's (my) feelings getting hurt. But over time, I saw her softer side and after I presented her with the one thing she always wanted, a baby girl, my standing in her eyes instantly elevated.

Over thirty years we grew to understand one another; to accept one another; to appreciate one another. Yes, she could be tough, distant, and stubborn. Yes, she could be infuriating and frustrating. But she could also be incredibly generous, extremely loyal, and funny as hell. Oh, and there was one other thing she never was. She was never, ever boring.

So, get ready, God. Put up your feet and grab a bowl of popcorn. Elisabeth is on her way. Be sure to ask her to make you one of her famous plum kuchen. You won't be disappointed.