The world lost a sweet soul in April as Ms. Evelyn Mayo, my grandmother, born in 1927, passed on over.
The vast majority of her 97 years were spent in very good health. I felt a bond with her like I have experienced with few others. I’m not rushing things by any means, but it makes me somewhat excited to be a grandparent someday. I now have a strong urge to drink some coffee, mow my yard, cut some sweet potatoes, sing hymns and dig in the dirt.
Grandmama very much cared about a huge number of family members and friends, each on a very personal, individual basis, and wanted each to feel loved, like someone cared enough just to show up and visit.
She invested in me, prayed for me, cooked for me, showed up for me.
And oh how she loved Mr. Earl. Now they are reunited!
She taught, through her actions and life, the value of family, the value of holidays and tradition, of having family over for holidays, and then feeding them up with food, of sunshine, of visiting those going through tough times, of prayer, of vegetables, of singing.
It means a lot, just to have someone to talk with—about stories from the old days, goals, food, the weather, whatever—just to be there.
For the most part, Evelyn Mayo seemed to have a very joyful life, with her deepest periods of sorrow involving the loss of people whom she had loved for decades. I am very glad I got to share some moments of it with her.
I see some of her personality in my own boys, whether learned or genetic—love for cooking, for family, for being outside, for numbers, for holidays, and a sometimes baffling level of stubbornness that can at times be a little difficult, but at other times be an admirable level of resolve that is exactly what someone needs to get the job done, make things happen and persevere.
Fly away Grandmama. Tell Grandaddy we all say Hi! We shall see you soon.
May your burdens be no more.
Find some information on health, wellness and veggies in this issue of the Pulse, perhaps some helpful inspiration for all of us who intend to live into our 90s.
