ToquiNotes: Saying Goodbye to a Gift from God in the Form of a Security Blanket Who I Called Mom
By Jeff Toquinto on June 22, 2025 from ToquiNotes
In the famous Peanuts comic strip featuring Charlie Brown and Snoopy, there is a character Linus that most of my generation are familiar with. Linus was the one who carried the blanket.
The author, Charles Schultz, portrayed a literal blanket for what it was to Linus – his security blanket. A lot of us have a security blanket in our lives no matter what form it may come in.
My security blanket for nearly 57 years was not made of material. Rather, it was made of flesh and blood.
The blanket had a name. It was Mom.
As for a birth and then marriage certificate, it was Nancy Lee Hendren, and eventually, as she was known, Nancy Toquinto Holt.
On Thursday, June 19, I watched my security blanket take her last breath. At the age of 84, my mother was called home to be with the Lord.
The moment was not a surprise. We knew days earlier what was set to transpire. Yet, I was not prepared for the woman who birthed me, protected me, backed me, humbled me when needed, had my back, was my sanctuary – my security blanket – to be taken away. I have felt from that moment, as I type these words, emotionally exposed.
Before talking about my mother, please know I fully understand how blessed I have been to have her by my side at every high and every low of my life for nearly six decades. I do not take that gift lightly. I also fully understand that many who read this blog have traveled this path, albeit with
different potholes and smooth surfaces, as their own mothers have passed.
different potholes and smooth surfaces, as their own mothers have passed.
But, if for no other purpose than I have the outlet of this blog, I felt the need to let those who read this know about my mother. The word “need” is important to me because I hope those who have that steady person in their life, the mother or father or family member or any friend, needs to be told, as I was able to do, just how much they mean to them.
I had, for 56-plus years, a readily available role model.
My mother, as her children were in high school and a bit beyond, became a single mother. I watched how a two-income household became a one-income household and how my mother managed the struggles that came with it. I watched her take an untrustworthy vehicle out in storms for overtime at work so we could go on a small vacation. I watched her arrive at our door with snow and ice draped to her body catching the last bus home from a weekend overtime session to make money to 
help make ends meet.
help make ends meet.
I remember her, as myself and my brother were in high school and out sled riding on a cold snowy day and calling it a day and seeing our mother laying under a crawl space at the house, bundled as best she could, using a hair dryer to unfreeze the water lines because not only could we not afford a plumber, but we had to have water.
I recall her making sure a terribly poor mother and her young child living behind us that would not accept charity, even at Christmas, create an idea of a random drop off of presents and food on Christmas Eve. She did this even as our own family struggled but set out to make sure there was something for both of them on Christmas Day.
I loved how she allowed our house to be an open house. And by that, I mean all of the neighborhood kids were welcomed in from the
times I can barely remember until high school and college. The house was always filled, and it became the gathering point as I transitioned into a young adult.
times I can barely remember until high school and college. The house was always filled, and it became the gathering point as I transitioned into a young adult.
Although she did it out of our view, I watched her ration her money into envelopes from each paycheck to make sure each bill was paid, and food was on the table. I appreciated what I was seeing even in my early teens, and it also caused some anger toward my father (who please note I love dearly to this day).
My appreciation for what mom was doing would turn to a respect that never dropped when I decided to belittle my father in front of her following the divorce for the situation she was placed in. The commentary ended quickly. I was told, in a way I knew she was serious, I was not to disrespect my father in front of her – ever. I never did it again.
Eventually, my mother would remarry. Ironically, she met her second husband – James Holt – at a class reunion. They went to school 
briefly at Lumberport, did not know one another at from their limited high school days together, and then spent the rest of their lives together with Jim by her side with me, and other family members, as she took her last breath.
briefly at Lumberport, did not know one another at from their limited high school days together, and then spent the rest of their lives together with Jim by her side with me, and other family members, as she took her last breath.
They spent decades in Cocoa, Florida where he was a veterinarian. She was 14 hours away when I started dating my wife, but she welcomed her and her beautiful daughter Jordan from day one. If I was happy, then she was happy, and whoever was making me happy had a green light to her love.
And while I was always welcome and had a great vacation spot not far from the beach, I missed my mother tremendously. When Jim retired and they built a home on a beautiful swath of 100-plus acres off Adamsville Road, I was overjoyed. My anchor was now a quick car
ride away.
ride away.
Since her return, there were visits on Mother’s Day, time spent on holidays, a random Sunday visit, a trip to visit my brother, and plenty of phone calls and conversations. As I, too, am closer to the end of my journey on this planet as I am from the beginning of it, I was always keenly aware that I never quit needing her no matter the distance between us. In times of stress, sorrow, mountainous anxiety, there was calm in my storm, and it was my mother.
Perhaps it was her selflessness, unmatched by anyone I know, that let me know I had my own therapist waiting either with the right words or just an open ear anytime I needed it. She was there 24/7, just like the old Canteen 
where she enjoyed going to have a bite to eat and, well, a few laughs.
where she enjoyed going to have a bite to eat and, well, a few laughs.
It should be noted that as much as she saved me from myself too often to count, she provided me with unlimited joy. She loved to reminisce, enjoyed a good jab at someone's expense or her own, thrived in the presence of company, and she could provide that aforementioned joy by doing something those closest to her knew all too well about – laugh.
It was loud, it was infectious, and it came from deep within her soul. It certainly did not define her, but it was deeply embedded in the beautiful canvas on the painting of her life.
The grief and sorrow I feel, and that so many others have gone through and still carry, is a hidden blessing. I do not believe for a second that myself or anyone else carrying the burden of sadness that seems insurmountable would be possible if the love were not so deep.
Unfortunately, grief fills that void until emotional scar tissue and wonderful memories allow you to move ahead.
Unfortunately, grief fills that void until emotional scar tissue and wonderful memories allow you to move ahead.
In the next few days, we will lay my mother to rest. It will be a physical goodbye to an individual who led life as Christ intended, one to care for others and to love those individuals as they were.
This week I said goodbye to my security blanket. The one that protected me. The one that gave me warmth when my soul was cold with despair. The one God gave me.
I say goodbye to the blanket who helped make me who I am today. I only hope I can come close to being able to provide to others what she did for me and so many others. I need to do that so I can assure myself that I can see her again.
Love you mom.
Editor's Note: Top photo, from 1986, is of the author and his mother, Nancy Toquinto Holt following high school graduation and that is followed by Jeff and his mom with his wife Valerie and daughter Jordan. In the third image Nancy is shown with Jeff and her son Tim and daughter Melinda followed by her and her husband Jim with daughter Teresa at their home off Adamsville Road. The fifth photo is Nancy, far left, having fun on a trip, while she is shown with Jeff on Mother's day in 2022. In the sixth image, Nancy, far left, is having a huge laugh with her lifetime friend Bonnie Maphis. Bottom photo shows Nancy and Jim with their granddaughter Jordan this past Christmas.
Jeff, So sorry to hear of the passing of your mom. It was nice to read about the woman who raised you. She must have been a proud Mom. God bless her and you. Jay Krohe
Posted by Jay Krohe
Jun. 22, 2025 at 4:45 PM EST
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