Mama Jeanne

My wife’s mother changed worlds yesterday. We all called her Mama Jeanne. She was a large presence in the family, increasingly so in the years since her husband, T.G., died. “Matriarch” is a fitting description. Things tended to revolve around her.

Mama Jeanne had a Midas touch when it came to gardening. She passed that along to Page (her daughter and my wife) who creates masterpieces of floral design. Page knows which plants need a little more sun, which others a little less, which ones are thirsty, which ones will drink too much given a chance, which have sturdy roots systems and which do not, and how they will all look and thrive when planted alongside (or in close proximity to) one another. In summer, our backyard with brick pathways going around and through bursts with color and life. I remember how often Mama Jeanne would sit and point out to Page where she thought things should go or how pleased she was with where they had already been placed. For Mama Jeanne, glorying in nature was quite literally glorying in God, a kind of worship. Page inherited that from her mom. Like mother/like daughter.

One of our daughters directs Art in a middle school. She’s a very gifted artist. Mama Jeanne was a high school Art teacher. Like grandmother/like granddaughter.

Mama Jeanne reared four children within five years of one another in age. I can’t even imagine what it takes to pull that off (especially when they are very young – I’m sure with four kids under five, I would be tempted to change my name and sneak out under the cover of darkness, headed for Croatia). She didn’t sneak off under the cover of darkness but, instead, did something awfully well as a mom because each one of her children turned out to be kind, decent, successful adults. They have a strong sense of family. Not only do they love one another, they also like one another. Those are not always the same things. Most of the time, the old adage holds true: Good parents make good kids. She did.

Mama Jeanne also liked me, which not everyone can say about their mother-in-law. She particularly liked my deviled eggs and cinnamon apples. Of course, who doesn’t like deviled eggs and cinnamon apples? So, our relationship must have been based on something deeper than that. I think it was based on her love for family. If I made her daughter and grandkids feel loved and safe, then I must be okay. I passed the Mama Jeanne test. I’m glad for that. We were friends to the very last day. Only minutes before she died, I thanked her for the relationship we had. They say gratitude is the sincerest expression of affection. It felt that way for me when I expressed appreciation, as I told her, “for everything.”

She was ninety-seven. Born during the Great Depression, Mama Jeanne had seen a lot – including a World War, a Cold War, moon landings, the invention of the microwave, the cell phone, and laptops. She read several books a week as long as her eyes allowed and could remember details from novels by David Baldacci and Diana Gabaldon (and was so infatuated with Gabaldon’s Outlander series that when our grandson, Wells, was born, she seriously suggested he should be named Jamie). The last chapter of her life was not easy, due to some physical challenges and the inevitable discomfort associated with them. But, she still managed to find a lot of happiness by watching Virginia Tech football games, professional tennis tournaments, and Hallmark movies on TV (especially the ones filmed in European palaces where the American nanny and the noble prince fall in love and live happily ever after). I think she and Lacey Chabert were on a first-name basis. Until the end, she also found joy in things like ice cream, strawberry preserves, or an Old Fashioned at 5:00 p.m.

She’s on a new adventure now. You know, of course, that the biblical word for heaven (dating all the way back to Genesis and also including Jesus’ final statements from the Cross) is Paradise. And, you also know what “Paradise” means, right? It means “garden.” How incredibly fitting for her. What else could heaven mean for someone like Mama Jeanne? She’s no doubt already planting, weeding, and creating new beauty in a Place of infinite beauty. No more pain or disability for her now. She’s busy – and happy – in God’s garden.