FAMILY LOSSES - ANN’S MOTHER

During the eighties, our three remaining parents all died, and there were other family deaths. Death is inevitable in every human life.  The time comes when we all go the way of all flesh, but it is always difficult to leave our loved ones behind.  I’ve already told you about the death of my mother.

The next to leave us was Ann’s mother, Sarah Williams.  Some people tell mother-in-law jokes, and make disparaging remarks about their mother-in-law.  I was not one of them.  She was much more than a mother-in-law to me.  As a matter of fact, I always addressed her as “Mother.”  She was an encourager, a confidant, a friend, and exemplar. I miss her yet.  Every few days, we will refer to something she used to do or say.  For example, she could not say the word “organization.”  It always came out “orzinigation.”  She was a joy to be around.  At one point she was president of the PTA, but she always referred to it as an “orzinigation.”

 

When Elliott was a teenager, he once talked about how unfair it was that some of his friends had to go visit their grandparents during the summer.  I said, “Well, you never seem to mind visiting your grandmother.”  He said, “Yeah, but Nannie’s fun.”  That was probably the greatest compliment he could give her.

She died of pancreatic cancer in 1985, but she was actually sick for about a year. Actually she didn’t know that she was suffering with cancer until it was close to the end.  She refused to stop.  A year prior to her death we went to Texas for a visit during the month of August.  She was having health problems then, but she was more concerned about a roof problem. 

Water was running down the side of the eaves and rotting the facer boards and some of the soffit.  I looked it over and somewhat rashly said that I thought I could fix it if she would buy the materials.   We went to the lumber yard and picked up the things we needed.   She didn’t have  a lot of tools.  As I recall, she had a couple of hammers, portable jig saw, a tape measure, a pry bar, and a square.  I don’t remember a level, but I really didn’t need one. 

I got a surprise when I started tearing off the old soffit.  It had rotted away for several feet.  I was there for a week, and I spent most of the week fixing the roof.  It was over a hundred degrees, but to my surprise Mother climbed up on that roof, and became my extra pair of hands.  That’s the kind of person she was.

It was hard let her go, when she was no longer able to stay here.  For months, Ann would find herself going to the telephone to give her a call, and then realizing she couldn’t.