Mamaw

In the midst of holiday revelry this year, we lost my sweet Mamaw. It was unexpected and left us reeling, but also (so fitting given her spirit and uniquely loving heart) gifted us treasured family time as we celebrated her life.

She had become a full social media convert in recent years and via those pages, she kept tabs on grandchildren and great-grandchildren near and far. Facebook in particular was her chosen community and I've found myself frequently scrolling back through my photos on there to read her comments. In that vein, I posted a little goodbye to her there, but also wanted to post it here so I can always find it, and so my memory of her sticks in as many places as I can architect. 

Rest well, sweet Mamaw. 

Posted to Facebook, December 2019:

We lost my amazing grandmother this week. I’d like to tell you a little about her.

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Peggy June Rains Brock was a force of gentle nurture and rock solid nature. She never suffered fools, but friend and foe alike found themselves around her table. All were welcomed there. Loved. Seen. Fed. Her table was a holy place, and she’d gather us there as often as possible and serve us home cooked meals that rivaled any Michelin rating. But when you finally pushed back your chair, it was your soul that was full to the brim.

She led a simple life, not in material measures but in a honed focus on what mattered: she served others. She loved with all her heart. She knew and followed God, always. She rested securely in the knowledge that what she had was more than enough.

I recall childhood mostly as an idyllic time with imagination to spare and expanse to run. I felt safe and loved, and she was central to that gift. As a grandmother, she was firm when she needed to be, but mostly she just showed up in all the ways that mattered. She assembled elaborate puzzles, played long and exacting games of house, answered every question, sat with me and taught me to string green beans and shuck corn to feed 20, all while talking through the day’s events, celebrating life’s latest melodies.

In later years, life and distance reshaped our relationship, and time around the table was largely replaced with time on the phone, on FaceTime, on text. In that new context, she came to know and love Rowan and Graham just as fiercely as she had us. She learned the ins and outs of social media, and leveraged it to know their faces and their hearts.

Every birthday and holiday brought a card in the mail for each of them, her love scrawled across the page and a twenty dollar bill tucked alongside her wishes for their upcoming year.

My only regret is that I did not bridge our distance quickly enough for her to hug them in person. She deserved that, and they would have been so blessed to have that experience. One last life lesson she folded into the creases…don’t wait, tomorrow is not a promise.

I returned to the mountains of my childhood this weekend to say goodbye. To touch her hands and kiss her cheeks and thank her for loving me better than I ever could have hoped. I hugged aunts and uncles and cousins that I haven’t seen in far too long, and celebrated her life from deep within the family that was her pride and joy. I watched as her six grandsons carried her to her final resting place on a majestic mountainside. My cousin lifted her beautiful voice to the heavens and sang Amazing Grace. I was so grateful to be there, so honored to be her granddaughter.

I will endeavor to live the rest of my life in the sparkling shadow of her quiet example. I love you, Mamaw. I will miss you beyond measure. I will love you beyond time.