Loreen Reiter

My mother, Loreen Reiter of Billings, Montana, has died, leaving behind a life and a relationship that cannot be summed up easily. She was my mother, and ours was a complicated relationship. There was love between us, but there were also distances, differences, and wounds that belonged uniquely to the two of us. I have learned that losing a mother does not suddenly make those complexities disappear. Instead, grief somehow asks us to make room for all of them. Loreen had her own story long before I became part of it—a life shaped by experiences, choices, joys, disappointments, strengths, and struggles that I could never completely know. As her daughter, I knew her through the particular lens that only a child can have of her mother. With her passing, I find myself remembering not only what was difficult, but also the moments of connection, the things she gave me, intentionally or unintentionally, and the ways knowing her helped shape the woman I became. I don’t feel the need to rewrite our story now or make it more perfect in memory than it was in life. I would rather honor it truthfully. She was my mother. I was her daughter. We loved each other imperfectly, and our relationship was real. Today, I choose to remember Loreen with compassion—for the woman she was, for the life she lived, and for everything between us that was beautiful, difficult, understood, and perhaps never fully understood. Rest peacefully, Mom. Love your daughter, Tammie

It was 1963 when Loreen and I worked together at Skaggs. She was so kind and took me under her wing. I was just out of HS and engaged to be married. Although I did not stay at Skaggs I always lived it when I saw her and even after she and Ron married she always greeted me as a long list best friend. She kindness left a lasting impression on me. God’s speed, my dear friend. God’s peace to her family.