It has been eleven years since you passed over to the other side. I know I am not the only one who misses you for you gave so much of yourself to everyone you met.
Yesterday, I drove out our dirt road, and there was a huge tortoise on the road. I stopped and talked to him, and like a thousand other times, I wished I could go get you to come see this old gentleman. I wondered if he was one of the tortoise's that you captured for your grandchildren to see for a day, and then released. He was big enough to have been that old.
There are days often like that where I see something or hear something I would like to share with you, but you are not there. It is part of grief that never ends. It gets better, but it is always there. I hear a harmonica and I think of Da. I hear a joke and I wonder how Joe or Jimmy would tell that same joke, knowing either one of them could do it better. I can hear something that I know Gary and I would disagree about and I miss those moments also.
I just don't stay there every day anymore for I have to go on living. The last six months have been difficult for me. All but one of your cats are gone now. I kept my promise, but they gave me purpose to continue each day when there were some days I was just weary. I kept my promise the best that I could. It was just the beginning of a difficult era in my life, but you know me, I face everything head on, and have to stand on my own two feet which I began doing at the age of 1o months.
Thank you Ma for being such a source of kindness, love, caring and hope for all of us. Even when others did not believe in us, you did. Before Joe and I went off to college, people told you not to waste your money on us. You told me so, and I remember you also said to me (And I am sure you told Joe,) "I don't care what others say about you. I know you. I know you will not fail. You will do your best." It was hard that first year, but that spring when the Iris I grew were blooming, you had Da bring me a bouquet of twenty Iris blooms. They arrived in perfect condition. That one gift gave me courage to continue. You gave to each of your family that same love, and same support and when needed that same tongue lashing. I am pretty sure I got the most of those.
Your biggest gift to me was opening my eyes to see people where they are not where I am. Da told me never to take another person's dignity, but you gave me the tools on how to fulfill what Da told me to do. Thank you.
I know one day I will see you again. I have no doubt of that, but despite health issues I have at present, I know there is still more for me to do in this life. I will miss you until then.
I am so thankful for those last few months of taking care of you. I am thankful I stepped out in courage knowing that money for me would be tight when you died. I have not regretted one day of doing that even when times got really hard. I heard one night those words you said to me before I went to college. "I don't care what others say about you. I know you. I know you will not fail. You will do your best." What a wonderful gift to give to a child, faith in their strength.
On those last months I wrote the poem that I read at your funeral. I remember friends and family thought I could not read it even advised me against it, but they did not know the words you gave me once. I tried to touch on all of your life for such a wonderful life it was. It has been over eleven years since I read it to you one night before you died and you approved of it. I just didn't read the last verse. I read that one at your funeral. You approved my making soup to serve after your funeral. I cried myself to sleep that night for I did not want what was coming... so in honor of your wonderful life and how much you gave to us all.... I repeat this poem and tell you again I love you and that love will not die.
Ma’s Goodnight
IN memory of Mary Louise Rainey Todd 2-28-1915 to 4-29-2008
By Mary Elizabeth Todd
April 23, 2008
I sit at your bedside
Somewhere between midnight, and
The dawn.
Watching as calm sleep,
Released you from the strange wanderings
Your mind now carried you.
There is a fierce determination,
A beautiful strength
Beneath all the age you now carry.
When did you become the cornerstone of all our lives?
Was it when you mothered
Four younger siblings
Carrying sister Nelle
On your hip?
Did all that fierceness
Come forward when playing basketball
For the winning team?
Did you see the irony that you
Could not play the entire court
Because girls did not have the endurance,
And yet you walked five miles home
After each day’s practice?
Was it when
Determined you married
The man with the summer blue eyes
Black curls and sun-tanned skin?
The man who loved roads,
Who loved you for you saw him
Not his father.
I can see that jaws clinch,
When you said,
“I’m marrying him!”
Was it when
That same man carried you
To faraway places:
Tennessee, Kentucky, Michigan?
Phone calls home
Were only for emergencies,
And everyone had to be quiet.
“Cause I am talking long distance.”
There you found your strength
To face what life brought you.
And Life brought you much.
One Thanksgiving,
Da had to work on the mountain.
Barely enough food,
Pregnant and alone,
Except for your two-year-old son
(Your first born down in South Carolina way with family).
Far from family-feeling helpless-
You and your beautiful strength
Decided to make the best
With one egg and grits.
A friend came with a tray of food.
You never forgot that kindness
And gave back to others
To honor those who gave to you.
It was a simple lesson
To always give back more
Than you ever got.
If Life brought you much;
You brought much to life.
You loved politics and
Was proud to vote each election.
You loved children,
And children loved you.
Wherever you lived,
You found joy in their company.
It is not odd that your mind
Now carries you to worry and to care
For children I cannot see.
You loved to laugh,
And sometimes the silliest little things
Would bring that grin of yours
That sparkled all the way up through your eyes.
(I miss that so much.)
You couldn’t drive.
I can hear you say,
“Not being able to drive
Taught me patience.”
But even that
Did not keep you from
Getting what you wanted
For you were resourceful, and
You bartered services for services,
But mostly you brought to life
Love.
Your table was always open,
And your way of sharing love
Was to prepare a feast-
Most often of fried chicken, cornbread,
Green beans, soup, and peach pie.
We learned to become storytellers
And listeners of others’ stories.
You taught us hard work
Is how we find merit,
For at the end of a day’s work
Remaining true to ourselves
Matters more
Than the money we bring home.
Friends and family were the same to you.
Your door, your table,
And your heart- always open.
Maybe it came from living,
So far from family
And that fierce determination
Made you reach out to those
Wherever you called home.
And because you would
Never give into despair or loneliness
You gave to us
The gift of friends
People- we would not have known
If you had stayed to yourself-
People-who cared so much for you
That when you moved away-
They reached back across the miles
With their hearts.
Sitting here in your wheelchair,
Watching your sleep go deeper,
And hearing you begin to snore,
I know I should go rest myself,
But I cannot yet leave,
For I still have questions.
For when did we fail to understand
That the solid quiet faith you lived
Was born of strength not weakness
That service was the way that you worshipped?
Over the years you fed strangers-
Gave clothes to those who had few-
Visited those who could not come visit.
You gave yourself over and over.
When far away from the church that you loved,
You went to other churches,
But you always saved back a little
To send to your dear Ruhamah.
When it came time to rebuild,
Like the other ladies of the church,
You painted walls –renewed the pews
And rejoiced in the work well done.
Each Spring when the dogwoods and azaleas bloom,
I remember how you convinced a reluctant daughter
To come on hot August days
To water those same beautiful flowers.
The lessons of service
That we didn’t always see,
For there was nothing flashy
About your quiet strong faith.
It just simply was.
Did all those memories
That you gave to us-
The same lullaby sang to the children who came to you
“Oh, my little baby, don’t you want to go to sleep?”
The meals-the stories and the quirkiness
Like hiding axes behind doors
Always keeping your pocketbook close and filled with tissues-
Fears of storms, pine trees falling, and the dark-
The little notes you wrote to yourself
Of sayings you collected like:
“If the minority suffers, the majority suffers.”
Little pieces of yourself-
Those we will carry with us-
But it is that cornerstone of our lives
That will remain with us the longest
That each day built
The foundation of each of us.
The young children among us
Will not know you,
But they will know
And what we will carry with us,
Is that Life brings us much
And not all is easy, but
We must face it with a fierce determination
And a beautiful strength-
Bring much to life-especially laughter
Reach beyond ourselves with open hearts
And always be true to who you are.
I must go to rest,
For I will need all the strength for tomorrow,
And as you yourself rest,
I say Goodnight Ma
May your dreams be sweet
And clouded only by joy-
For I don’t know anyone
More worthy of rest than you.
Yesterday, I drove out our dirt road, and there was a huge tortoise on the road. I stopped and talked to him, and like a thousand other times, I wished I could go get you to come see this old gentleman. I wondered if he was one of the tortoise's that you captured for your grandchildren to see for a day, and then released. He was big enough to have been that old.
There are days often like that where I see something or hear something I would like to share with you, but you are not there. It is part of grief that never ends. It gets better, but it is always there. I hear a harmonica and I think of Da. I hear a joke and I wonder how Joe or Jimmy would tell that same joke, knowing either one of them could do it better. I can hear something that I know Gary and I would disagree about and I miss those moments also.
I just don't stay there every day anymore for I have to go on living. The last six months have been difficult for me. All but one of your cats are gone now. I kept my promise, but they gave me purpose to continue each day when there were some days I was just weary. I kept my promise the best that I could. It was just the beginning of a difficult era in my life, but you know me, I face everything head on, and have to stand on my own two feet which I began doing at the age of 1o months.
Thank you Ma for being such a source of kindness, love, caring and hope for all of us. Even when others did not believe in us, you did. Before Joe and I went off to college, people told you not to waste your money on us. You told me so, and I remember you also said to me (And I am sure you told Joe,) "I don't care what others say about you. I know you. I know you will not fail. You will do your best." It was hard that first year, but that spring when the Iris I grew were blooming, you had Da bring me a bouquet of twenty Iris blooms. They arrived in perfect condition. That one gift gave me courage to continue. You gave to each of your family that same love, and same support and when needed that same tongue lashing. I am pretty sure I got the most of those.
Your biggest gift to me was opening my eyes to see people where they are not where I am. Da told me never to take another person's dignity, but you gave me the tools on how to fulfill what Da told me to do. Thank you.
I know one day I will see you again. I have no doubt of that, but despite health issues I have at present, I know there is still more for me to do in this life. I will miss you until then.
I am so thankful for those last few months of taking care of you. I am thankful I stepped out in courage knowing that money for me would be tight when you died. I have not regretted one day of doing that even when times got really hard. I heard one night those words you said to me before I went to college. "I don't care what others say about you. I know you. I know you will not fail. You will do your best." What a wonderful gift to give to a child, faith in their strength.
On those last months I wrote the poem that I read at your funeral. I remember friends and family thought I could not read it even advised me against it, but they did not know the words you gave me once. I tried to touch on all of your life for such a wonderful life it was. It has been over eleven years since I read it to you one night before you died and you approved of it. I just didn't read the last verse. I read that one at your funeral. You approved my making soup to serve after your funeral. I cried myself to sleep that night for I did not want what was coming... so in honor of your wonderful life and how much you gave to us all.... I repeat this poem and tell you again I love you and that love will not die.
Ma’s Goodnight
IN memory of Mary Louise Rainey Todd 2-28-1915 to 4-29-2008
By Mary Elizabeth Todd
April 23, 2008
I sit at your bedside
Somewhere between midnight, and
The dawn.
Watching as calm sleep,
Released you from the strange wanderings
Your mind now carried you.
There is a fierce determination,
A beautiful strength
Beneath all the age you now carry.
When did you become the cornerstone of all our lives?
Was it when you mothered
Four younger siblings
Carrying sister Nelle
On your hip?
Did all that fierceness
Come forward when playing basketball
For the winning team?
Did you see the irony that you
Could not play the entire court
Because girls did not have the endurance,
And yet you walked five miles home
After each day’s practice?
Was it when
Determined you married
The man with the summer blue eyes
Black curls and sun-tanned skin?
The man who loved roads,
Who loved you for you saw him
Not his father.
I can see that jaws clinch,
When you said,
“I’m marrying him!”
Was it when
That same man carried you
To faraway places:
Tennessee, Kentucky, Michigan?
Phone calls home
Were only for emergencies,
And everyone had to be quiet.
“Cause I am talking long distance.”
There you found your strength
To face what life brought you.
And Life brought you much.
One Thanksgiving,
Da had to work on the mountain.
Barely enough food,
Pregnant and alone,
Except for your two-year-old son
(Your first born down in South Carolina way with family).
Far from family-feeling helpless-
You and your beautiful strength
Decided to make the best
With one egg and grits.
A friend came with a tray of food.
You never forgot that kindness
And gave back to others
To honor those who gave to you.
It was a simple lesson
To always give back more
Than you ever got.
If Life brought you much;
You brought much to life.
You loved politics and
Was proud to vote each election.
You loved children,
And children loved you.
Wherever you lived,
You found joy in their company.
It is not odd that your mind
Now carries you to worry and to care
For children I cannot see.
You loved to laugh,
And sometimes the silliest little things
Would bring that grin of yours
That sparkled all the way up through your eyes.
(I miss that so much.)
You couldn’t drive.
I can hear you say,
“Not being able to drive
Taught me patience.”
But even that
Did not keep you from
Getting what you wanted
For you were resourceful, and
You bartered services for services,
But mostly you brought to life
Love.
Your table was always open,
And your way of sharing love
Was to prepare a feast-
Most often of fried chicken, cornbread,
Green beans, soup, and peach pie.
We learned to become storytellers
And listeners of others’ stories.
You taught us hard work
Is how we find merit,
For at the end of a day’s work
Remaining true to ourselves
Matters more
Than the money we bring home.
Friends and family were the same to you.
Your door, your table,
And your heart- always open.
Maybe it came from living,
So far from family
And that fierce determination
Made you reach out to those
Wherever you called home.
And because you would
Never give into despair or loneliness
You gave to us
The gift of friends
People- we would not have known
If you had stayed to yourself-
People-who cared so much for you
That when you moved away-
They reached back across the miles
With their hearts.
Sitting here in your wheelchair,
Watching your sleep go deeper,
And hearing you begin to snore,
I know I should go rest myself,
But I cannot yet leave,
For I still have questions.
For when did we fail to understand
That the solid quiet faith you lived
Was born of strength not weakness
That service was the way that you worshipped?
Over the years you fed strangers-
Gave clothes to those who had few-
Visited those who could not come visit.
You gave yourself over and over.
When far away from the church that you loved,
You went to other churches,
But you always saved back a little
To send to your dear Ruhamah.
When it came time to rebuild,
Like the other ladies of the church,
You painted walls –renewed the pews
And rejoiced in the work well done.
Each Spring when the dogwoods and azaleas bloom,
I remember how you convinced a reluctant daughter
To come on hot August days
To water those same beautiful flowers.
The lessons of service
That we didn’t always see,
For there was nothing flashy
About your quiet strong faith.
It just simply was.
Did all those memories
That you gave to us-
The same lullaby sang to the children who came to you
“Oh, my little baby, don’t you want to go to sleep?”
The meals-the stories and the quirkiness
Like hiding axes behind doors
Always keeping your pocketbook close and filled with tissues-
Fears of storms, pine trees falling, and the dark-
The little notes you wrote to yourself
Of sayings you collected like:
“If the minority suffers, the majority suffers.”
Little pieces of yourself-
Those we will carry with us-
But it is that cornerstone of our lives
That will remain with us the longest
That each day built
The foundation of each of us.
The young children among us
Will not know you,
But they will know
And what we will carry with us,
Is that Life brings us much
And not all is easy, but
We must face it with a fierce determination
And a beautiful strength-
Bring much to life-especially laughter
Reach beyond ourselves with open hearts
And always be true to who you are.
I must go to rest,
For I will need all the strength for tomorrow,
And as you yourself rest,
I say Goodnight Ma
May your dreams be sweet
And clouded only by joy-
For I don’t know anyone
More worthy of rest than you.