Lisa Isaac

How do you put into words an appropriate tribute to the woman who gave you life? How do you capture her light, her warmth, her amazing capacity for love, forgiveness, and acceptance? What words are out there to convey how absolutely giving (to a fault) my mother was in life? Just like the infinite number of stars in the sky, her loving and nurturing knew no bounds. My Mom's name is Lisa Rae Isaac. I use the word 'is' because she will always be with me, my brother Jon, her grandbabies Emma and Max, her siblings, family and friends. She was a spiritual lady who taught me to see the beauty in all things big and small- especially in nature. She shared her love of nature with her grandkids Emma and Max. Throughout my adult life, she constantly reminded me to 'enjoy the journey' and when life, kids, and work became chaotic, she used her insight to tell me that 'you're going to miss this someday' as she sat in her beautiful, but empty nest. She took pride in her work- both at home and professionally. She was a hard worker who was loyal to her places of employment. She did what she loved- learning tons from mentor, Jerry Weaver at Sharon Printing Company. She then took her knowledge to Albert Screenprint Inc, where she was an Electronic Prepress Technician. It was at Albert's where she built her work 'family' who she worked with and experienced life with for more than two decades. Her colleagues were almost as excited as she was to see new pictures of her grandbabies via social media. Thank goodness for Facebook! Because she utilized technology all day at work, her post- work time was sacred to her- time to read, walk her beloved big dog, Murphy Moose- a gentle giant who was fortuitously dropped off in front of the right house about 2 years ago. She told everyone that she rescued Murphy, it was really Murphy who rescued her. She loved having a companion to roam her park-like, wooded property or someone to lay on the porch as she tended to her many amazing flower and vegetable gardens. My mom found comfort and peace in all aspects of nature- whether hiking during 'Girls' Night' in Hocking Hills with her friends, or shell-seeking while on the beaches of North and South Carolina with family and friends. She was thrilled to be present for both grandkids first trips to the ocean, and spent hours teaching Emma and Max how to find that 'just right' shell and how to build a beautiful 'drippy' sand castle, just as she showed her own children decades before. Lisa was someone who loved fiercely with her whole heart. Her giving nature was a trait that made her remarkable, but also vulnerable. She married young (at age 18) and became a mother by age 19. She played the role of young housewife and mother for a few years, until the complexities of life had a crappy impact on the marriage. She was a single mother who had to figure out how to reenter the workforce while caring for 2 young kids. My brother and I recall how closely our Mom watched every penny- making one of us carry a calculator around the store to make sure we stayed on our budget. She taught us that life sometimes throws you curveballs that are not what you expect, but with hard work, you will come out on top. These unexpected curveballs led her to some great memories- being on the Women's Auxiliary and playing water ball as a fireman's wife, planting crops and raising chickens as the wife of a small scale farmer, riding on the back of a Harley across country to Sturgis, South Dakota for Bike Week, and meeting great friends while being the wife of a musician. If you asked her, she would tell you 'I didn't marry well' but great experiences came out of each phase of her life. She embraced life and the people around her, learning early on that people matter infinitely more than things. According to Lisa, raising 2 productive, kind, and successful children was her biggest accomplishment. Life was not always easy for us, but we always had what we needed. My brother and I must navigate through this world without her sometimes cliche and bumper sticker-esk sayings. She shared wisdom such as ' you play with poop, you get it on you' when she tried to teach Jon or me about hanging out with the wrong crowds. She would say 'You are trying to shove 10 pounds of junk into a five pound bag' when I would call her to complain about being overwhelmed and overscheduled. Her love of astrology, Native American beliefs, and general spirituality meshed well with her mantras of 'What goes around, comes around' and 'Everything happens for a reason'. September 16, 2016- a day that changed all of our lives forever. That fateful day that has me still questioning my faith and grasping at straws to understand 'why'. The day that she called me at work to tell me tearfully 'I have cancer'. From that moment on, I watched her fight a war that she physically did not have the strength to battle, let alone win. But she fought. She completed a round of chemo and half of her radiation sessions. And the treatments took their toll. She was so sick and in so much pain. All the while, her very aggressive cancer was taking hold of her body. She 'put on her big girl panties' and got her affairs in order- financially and emotionally. She asked for forgiveness and granted it as well. She had to quickly come to terms with what was happening to her while comforting and saying good-bye to her children, grandchildren, family and friends. Her wish was to stay in her home, her sanctuary. WIth the help of some of the most compassionate people I've ever met through Crossroads Hospice, we were able to grant her last request. November 5, 2016 was an unusually sunny and warm day. Her son had just made it in from Colorado late the night before. She held on long enough to get all of her 'ducklings home'. Family and friends came and went that day and I am sure she would have grumbled about the fuss that we were all making over her. Eventually the crowd thinned out and night was falling. The Hospice ladies told us 'it's time'. A small group of her closest family gathered around her to tell her that it was ok for her to go and that we would all be ok. You see, she was a caretaker- always worrying about everyone else. We held her hands, kissed her face, and reassured her that her work here was finished and that we would all be ok. It was an honor to comfort the woman who watched me take my first breath as she took her last. How does life go back to 'normal' after you lose your mother? I am not sure it ever will. Lisa Rae Isaac had a positive impact on so many, I hope to someday be wise, compassionate, and as amazing as she was to us. Cancer took her body, but her spirit lives on in us and in her grandchildren. My heart is heavy knowing that I cannot simply pick up the phone and hear her voice. But I know that she will always be in my heart. Lisa Rae Isaac. Loved Always. Missed Forever.