Untucked

February 14, 1936-June 21, 2023

An entry date and and exit date, a beginning and an end. Somehow just expressing those words brings a fresh wave of tears, the type that causes shallow breathing and the desire to curl up in sobs. Grief companions loss like a shadow, it follows it and works diligently to define it.

Our family has gently sifted through my parents earthly possessions since June 21. We have discovered many, many treasures. Not treasures of monetary value, but of monitory value. Treasures of sentiment, wisdom, Kingdom purpose….treasures revealing two lives lived well. Two who loved well and gave well. For both of my parents, the dash between their dates mattered significantly to them, they lived carefully and joyfully.

Our mom would have likely been embarrassed at the outpouring of people attending her funeral and the visitation just preceding it. She did not want any attention drawn to herself while living, and certainly did not desire a big “ta-do” at her death. Yet so many people arrived, with tear filled eyes and a story to express to us regarding the kindness and thoughtfulness of our mom/grandma. Stories from strangers who had known her from a local store, fellow employees from the School she worked at as an elementary cook (and had been retired from for at least 20 years). There were now grown children she had rocked in the Church nursery; childhood and teenage friends of my two siblings and me (whom she had treated as her own); Hayes and Ferguson cousins expressing “she was my favorite”; gifted musicians she had played the piano for; church members from every pastorate and staff position my dad served…people representing lives she humbly touched.

Her dash was far reaching.

She was a steadfast influence, living her faith simply and consistently. We were not surprised at any of the stories, because for each one told of her good deeds, we could add a hundred.

She was the ultimate nurturer and caregiver.

She loved serving her family, her friends, the Churches God called them to.

Serving was her favorite.

She loved hard work. She was a farm girl at heart to the very end. (My grandparents were Dairy Farmers – hard work was their love language.)

She delighted in simplicity and routine – her dash was consistent and sure, we could always count on her….always.

I venture to say that few women have managed to earn the adoration of her children’s spouses like mom was able to do. Both of her son-in-laws adored her, respected her. They cared for her tenderly and carefully in her final weeks, allowing her as much dignity as was humanly possible in undignified moments. My dad would be so grateful for how they cared for her in his absence. And though it has been twenty years since my brothers’ death, my sister-in-law continued to call her “mom” to the very end…because she was. She.was.mom.

As she exited this life, a tear dripped from her eye. As I wiped it, I knew it would be her last one….and I wondered what she was seeing that might have caused it. Perhaps it was the sight of her beloved Savior, perhaps it was the sight of her two daughters and a granddaughter at her bedside for her final breath – perhaps it was both. Today, no more tears for mom, no more sorrow or sickness, no more painful goodbyes.

Mom taught us many things throughout life.

But primarily and solidly – she taught us that the dash between the dates matters most.

She lived her dash so well, and I deeply miss her presence in my life.

Valene Fay Ferguson – February 14, 1936-June 21, 2023