Last night the phone rang. It was after nine, so I knew it had to be my sister. Indeed, it was. The first thing I heard after saying hello was "You aren't going to believe the email I just got." The sender was a friend of hers from high school, but not one that my sister has remained close to through the years. They've recently reconnected on Facebook and this is the message my sister received.
"I have the strangest story to tell you, my best friend and I collect obituaries. One day she called me and read the most fabulous one I have ever heard. It was the story of this girl and her wonderful life. I cannot remember all the details but it was beautifully written and I remember that she always loved to have a round kitchen table so she could fit more people around it. I cried for this woman I had never met because after hearing her story I felt like I did. Something in it clicked with me and I called her back and asked her if this lady had two daughters, one named Amy and one named Macy and I guess you know that she did, it was your mom."
As Amy finished reading it to me, I felt a lump in my throat, tears stinging my eyes. I wrote that obituary in the aftermath of my mom's death, still numb and unbelieving that she was gone. We were at my sister's house with sadness permeating the chaos that always ensues when our families are together. How I focused enough to record a single coherent thought is beyond me. I had two young kids and was 8 months pregnant with my third. Amy had her stepdaughter, her son, and was also 7 months pregnant at the time. To say we were a mess is an understatement.
While I don't collect obituaries, I do read them. When they are written to include details about someone's life, I find them interesting and far more personal. In some small way, it eases my sadness about their passing if I've learned a special something about their life. This holds true whether I know the person or not. When I wrote my mom's obituary, despite my tears and confusion, I wanted hers to possess a few glimmers into who she was. I'd like to think I came close to hitting the mark. What follows is a condensed form of the obituary that I scribbled out for my mom, one of the greatest loves of my life, the day after she died.
"Christine Davis Tucker, age 58, of Elysian Fields, passed away peacefully in her home on November 26, 2003 after a courageous and valiant battle with cancer. She was surrounded by loved ones and left this world with her signature grace and beauty.
Chris was the wife of Bill Tucker and the couple enjoyed many special times together after rediscovering love later in their lives. The two enjoyed spending time fishing, being outdoors, cooking and hosting friends and family at their home overlooking a pond.
Born and raised in Minden, LA, she was the fifth child and baby of the family. Her parents were Bruce and Kate Davis. Her childhood was spent creating fond and somewhat adventurous memories with many special people on "Goat Hill", the neighborhood in which she grew up.
A lifelong educator, Chris devoted herself to her children and was committed to excellence in both the schools and lives she touched. From her beginnings as a young, bright eyed kindergarten teacher, to her amazing work with children with special needs, she never backed away from any challenge. Her dedication and continual pursuit for growth is evident in the degrees she obtained while working full time and raising a family. At the time of her retirement she was Superintendent of Elysian Fields ISD but had also successfully accomplished classroom teaching, special education coordination, counseling, and leading other educators as an elementary principal.
Chris lived her life with a headstrong and fierce love for family. Mealtime gatherings around the dinner table (always a round table because more could squeeze in) with grand kids dashing about underfoot brought "Grandmother" much joy. Whether it was a trip to to the Dollar Store or an afternoon jaunt to the "boats" in Bossier city, joy and contentment were never hard for Chris to achieve. Simple pleasures such as reading the newspaper, dancing and humming around the kitchen, picking blackberries from the garden, talking to her girls on the phone everyday, or playing Solitaire on the computer were the things that Chris wanted in life. And, up until these last few weeks, she had it all-love, happiness, and a healthy, growing family."
Omitted are the housekeeping details regarding the funeral arrangements, as well as acknowledgments and heartfelt thank you's to the people who were so dear to us during her illness and that time in our lives.
How in the world can you capture the spirit, the soul, the essence of a human being in one afternoon, with kids howling and running about, tears spilling forth, and the realization that you've just lost one of the most pivotal people in your life? I'm not sure what I achieved, but I'd like to hope I did my mom a bit of justice when I wrote those words. And, I guess for Amy's old friend, I didn't do half bad.
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