Her Strength, Her Love, Her Legacy

Many of you have followed along when I shared our journey with Alzheimers here on the blog or on Instagram. My precious momma ended her courageous journey on Thursday, February 27th at the age of 79. While we have been grieing the loss of so many pieces of her the last few years, it has become obvious in digging up pictures that we will grieve the loss and impact she made on us forever. I truly felt as if a piece of my own heart left my body with her last breath. Her strength,love, and legacy lives on through her family and we will continue to remember and honor her.

I’m sharing the words I spoke at her service here to be sure there is a permanant home for them.

Some of the qualities I inherited from my mom have carried me the furthest in life—yet, ironically, they were also the same ones that caused the most friction between us at times. Being strong-willed and independent (stubborn, some might say) was a birthright! As much as I fought against her sometimes, I wouldn’t be the person I am today without her lessons or her unwavering love. No one ever loves you quite like your momma, and it’s not until we become mothers ourselves that we truly grasp how deep that love runs.

As a mom, she was a master of unconditional love—and believe me, we tested it, especially during those teenage years. There was nothing we couldn’t share with her because she always listened without judgment. Sure, she offered her guidance, but she also accepted when we chose a different path and let us learn from our own mistakes. Now, as a parent myself, I understand how hard that must have been for her—the many nights she must have spent on her knees, praying for God to intervene.

One of the things I admired most about my mom was her contentment. She never compared herself to others or wished for a different life. I never once heard her complain about wanting a bigger house or envy someone else’s extravagant vacations. That’s not to say she didn’t sometimes wonder how things might have turned out differently, but she always had confidence in herself—enough to trust that she could handle whatever came her way. She had an incredible peace about accepting the things she couldn’t change. And thank goodness, because Lord knows she didn’t like change!

Gosh, she was beautiful. I’m grateful she passed along her smile and that infectious laugh. Her darling little pug nose was just as cute at the end of her life as it was in the beginning. She had a tiny gap between her two front teeth, and when I once asked why she never had it fixed, she simply said, “Because it’s sexy.” I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t stressed about her hair!

In 1978, she began a lifelong career at Wharton County Junior College, where she discovered her true passion—helping others achieve their educational goals. As a program coordinator for the JTPA (later Perkins) program, she guided countless students toward vocational degrees and sustainable careers. More than just providing financial assistance, she was a source of unwavering encouragement, offering a compassionate ear and support when her students faced challenges.

Because education was always a priority, she returned to college to complete what she had started years before earning a bachelor’s degree in psychology in 1994 and later achieved a master’s degree in counseling and guidance in 2003.

Music was a lifelong passion and it was a constant presence in our home. She adored all genres, but Elvis and George Strait held a special place in her heart. She even made a memorable trip to Graceland to celebrate Elvis’ birthday. Whether driving around town with the radio turned up or sharing her love of music with her children and grandchildren, her enthusiasm for melodies and lyrics was infectious.

She was also a proud procrastinator—something I definitely inherited. She claimed to work better under pressure, and maybe she was right. One of my favorite memories is of a bottle of wine her friend Bitsy gave her, labeled “Procrastinate.” In true form, she never drank it—it sat proudly on her bar as décor for at least ten years.

But where she truly shined was in her role as “Nana.” From the moment her grandkids came into the world, she poured her whole heart into loving them. She let them do things that weren’t always age-appropriate—like watching Saturday Night Live on repeat—which created endless inside jokes over the years with her “wild and crazy guys”. She loved to have fun and often made us laugh just by being the lovable, sometimes “blonde” version of herself.

“Homemade” waffles were her specialty, made even better because she served them all on trays, directly in bed. New Year’s Eve at Nana’s was an event—banging pots and pans at midnight, popping balloons, and celebrating in full force. There were tea parties, Nerf gun battles, and even a pole-dancing lesson in Vegas for her granddaughter’s 21st birthday. She was at the heart of so many of our most cherished memories.

After she retired, she often showed up at our house unannounced, and the kids loved it. They would get so excited to turn down our street and see Nana’s car in the driveway. And of course, she always left behind her signature farewell gift—a dozen Subway cookies waiting on the counter. There were countless trips to McDonald’s, Walmart, and Target, and every summer, a brand-new pool magically appeared in her backyard. She worried over all of them, but she had a special soft spot for whoever was the youngest in the group, leading to one of their favorite inside jokes: “Carly, where’s Carly?”

In the last few years, as we sorted through her things, I came across a journal she had kept on occasion. After she retired, she was on top of the world, ready to have some fun. In those first five years she did! She traveled to Nashville, Long Beach, Disneyland, Arizona and the grand canyon and Vegas and made countless trips to watch her grandkids in their activities. In one entry, she wrote:

“I truly feel a load was lifted and feel so free. Funny, but I find myself hugging people—I mean really hugging them, like being in the moment with them.”

What a beautiful feeling that must have been!

Earlier this week, in the early morning hours, I lay awake in my childhood room, and God placed Psalm 46:5 on my heart: “God is within her; she will not fail.” Looking back, I can see so many moments when my mom’s faith carried her through heartbreak and uncertainty.

And now, looking at her legacy—not just her accomplishments, but her children and grandchildren and the people we’ve all become—it’s clear. She built a beautiful life. She poured her love deeply into all of us.

Our precious mom has prevailed. She has received her reward in heaven.

I’d like to close with a poem a friend shared last week written by Donna Ashworth.  When you feel you are without me, close your eyes. Float down beneath your skin, retreat within.  I am the blood that flows, I am the courage in your gut that grows.  I am the chamber in your heart that feels like home.  I am the seed from which your life was proudly grown.  Only my body has flown.  But me, I dwell still within your bones.  My voice and all the good I’ve ever known, is yours to own.  When you feel you are without me, listen close.  I whisper louder, when you miss me most. 

When I found this picture I smiled with my whole heart. This is how I’ll always remember her! I immediately sent it to my brother and told him I felt sure this was how mom showed up in heaven and he quickly replied “yep, reaching for Meme’s hand”. What a sweet vision! Thank all of you who have sent sweet prayers for me and my family. We are grateful and have felt them all!