SHADOWS OF MY PAST

Five years ago I was a happy, energetic married mother of three beautiful daughters, and although I am still happily married with three beautiful daughters, but I was no longer happy or energetic.

When my baby sister died in January 2005, my life went downhill fast, into a swirling, liquid, non-stop flight of depression and grief. I eventually quit my job as a Registered Nurse because I was suddenly unhappy with my work – or was it because my sister had been in nursing school and we had plans of her joining me at the hospital where I worked? Although I don't regret leaving my job for a single minute, I have isolated myself away from the world, surrounding myself into a cocoon of grief.



I used to love working in my gardens, but the past five years, my poor gardens have been terribly neglected because I haven't had the energy or desire to take care of them. My home is also not as clean, my meals not as delectable, and my volunteer work has blown to the wayside.

My wonderful hubby accepted me for who I was and loved me unconditionally, but I knew he was worried about me. The same goes for my three daughters – gone was the mother who participated in every aspect of her children’s lives, replaced by the shell of a mother who was just barely hanging on.

Up until about four years ago, I was the "take charge" person in every crisis, methodically working through the problems to find the right solution. Only after the crisis was over and everything was going back to normal did I allow myself a moment of panic. But since the death of my sister, the "take chargedness" has left me. Suddenly I am a person who falls apart at the first little hint of trouble, and when things really get bad, I melt down and have to go to sleep. Sleep is my new coping mechanism, protecting me from having to deal with situations or problems that cause me great stress.

For the past five years, I have been running from life - running from the grief of my sister's death. Her passing left a huge crater in my heart and it has been difficult to leap over the wide expanse of pain. My family has given me space – given me time to come to terms with my heartache and for that, I will always be grateful.

Just when I think I’m ready to jump back into the real world, my mother dies. For three weeks, on and off, she was in and out of the hospital and with the exception of one night, I stayed with her every night. If I hadn’t stayed, my Dad would not have left her sight and I knew he needed his rest. And after all, I had been a nurse for 20 years.

Again the pain and grief came crashing down on me. The only difference is my Momma had been sick for a long time, and I was comforted by the fact she was no longer in pain. I miss her terribly, even still pick up the phone to try and call her before I remember, I won’t be able to talk to her again for a long time.



My bottomless pit of misery didn’t last as long this time, probably for two reasons. The first is as soon as I realized how sick my Momma was, I worked with my psychiatrist to change my medications to help me deal with the depression, anxiety and anti-social behavior that still plaque my life. I knew I would be in and out of hospitals, so my anxiety had to be more under control so I could be more in control. The second reason, I think, is because my sister’s death was so sudden, unexpected; she had just turned her life around. Amy had changed her life; Momma was very sick.

Now it is time for me to begin living again. This year I am trying harder to pull my life together and enjoy the small things in life. Last year at my husband’s encouragement, I signed up for a writing workshop at my local public library. This was one of the best things to happen in my life for several years.

Not only did this workshop jumpstart my writing career, it has made a huge difference in my attitude on life and has given me a network of other writers to lean on. For someone with a severe anxiety disorder and phobia of being in large groups of people, I have been forcing myself to participate in public readings.
To say these activities scare me to death is an understatement, but I can actually see myself growing as a person and a writer, instead of always hiding in the shadow. I realize that in order to introduce myself back into society, I am going to have to put effort into going out in public.

After five years of self-deprecating pain and grief, I am now running toward life with new hopes and dreams. I'm still struggling, but the baby steps are turning into toddler steps and for the first time, I'm catching glimpses of my former self.
The shadows of my past are still leave scars upon my soul, but some are lightened with age; some are still fresh like a huge, gaping wound. The trials and tribulations which have shaped my life have been a mixture of feelings and hope, emotions and tears, lessons and sins. I have clawed my way up from the inside out, testing and trying to find the right way, hoping the shadow of painful memories will stop cutting me too sharply. I’m learning to stand tall again, learning to live life again and learning the mysterious lessons presented in my life.

Favorite Dolls and Christmas

Growing up in the late 1960s and early 70s, dolls were one of my favorite things; they are probably the favorite toy of most girls all over the world. All I ever wanted to be was a wife and mother, so dolls were my childhood playmates, and a way to let my maternal side show.

Aunt Virginia Ann, my Momma’s sister, got me a baby doll in the mid-1960s and I cherished her for years. I honestly don’t remember what happened to my baby doll, but within a few years Barbie and Skipper had taken over my life. My babysitter’s daughter had a Barbie trunk with all types of Barbie and Skipper clothes and accessories. During the summers I could spend all day playing with these dolls and clothes, as well as my own. When school started again in the fall, I played with all my Barbies after school; that is until reading entered my life. I was so proud of my Barbie clothes because my Granny Devine had made many of the outfits. I only have one of the “polyester” dresses my Granny made for my Barbies and I still have my very first Barbie.





My most memorable Christmas centered around one toy, which I still treasure today. The entire Harrodsburg family was at my Granny Devine’s house and after a huge meal, my Aunt began to hand presents to me and my brother and sister. I was around eight or nine years old and I couldn’t wait to tear into my package, but as usual, we had to wait until everyone had a present before we could open anything. Ready, set, go…away we went, ripping the paper and ribbons. I loved all my presents, but this year held a delightful surprise. Granny had given me a china doll…my very first china doll. She was so beautiful with porcelain black hair on top of her creamy porcelain face, with blue eyes, just like mine, and pink rosy cheeks. Her dress was pink with tiny white polka dots and she had a matching bonnet on her head. She even had a crinoline skirt and petticoat underneath her dress. I was ecstatic! It was such a grown up present and I was so happy my Granny thought I was old enough to have my first china doll.

This was 1970 or 1971, but I can still remember the excitement of this particular Christmas Eve. When the present were all finally opened and the wrapping and ribbons cleaned up, the kids watched television while the adults talked. This particular year, I took a long hot bubble bath in Granny’s miniature bathroom and changed into the new pajamas my Aunt had given me; new pajamas were a must for Christmas. I was all ready to go home to bed so I could wait for Old Saint Nick. I couldn’t wait to rush my parents home so I could jump into bed, listening to every creak of the house, just knowing that Santa would arrive at any minute. As for my china doll, Miss Betsy, she is still one of most treasured possessions. She holds a place of honor in my glass cabinet where I can glance at her every day. All three of my daughters have several china dolls apiece, but they never cared for dolls as much as I do. My dolls are a significant part of my heritage and, although I have had many china dolls since Miss Betsy, none will ever remind me of Christmas, or my Granny Devine, like this one special doll.




Momma also loved dolls, although her obsession started when she was much older. Whenever she would go shopping or was on vacation, she would find another doll for her collection. At the time of her death, she had two china cabinets filled with porcelain dolls and stuffed Boyd’s bears. What I like about her dolls is the fact they all have real hair; I always wished Miss Betsy had real hair so I could brush it. Most of my girl’s china dolls also have hair, but as I said, they never seemed interested in the dolls. It took Momma about five years before she realized my girl’s had no desire to have a doll collection. Most of these dolls are put away, and when my grandchildren get older, I will give the back to their mothers. Some of my dolls are 40 years old, but the girl’s dolls are from 10 to 25 years old; what a collectable “hand-me-down” these dolls will be.

Aunt Joyce, my Daddy’s sister, also has a large doll collection. Here dolls are all over the house and in the bedrooms. Several of these dolls I recognize because Momma would have one just like it. As with Momma’s dolls, my aunt’s dolls mostly have hair, and they all are very beautiful.




Another person in my life who loves dolls is Mrs. Gertrude Reed of Harrodsburg. Gertrude’s daughter is in the process of having her mother’s old dolls restored. One that is my favorite, is a doll with a porcelain head and stuffed body and she rides in a little wicker stroller. Gertrude said her sister had a duplicate doll in a stroller, but she couldn’t remember if it is still around. Gertrude, or rather her daughter, also had several other of her old dolls refinished, and she is happy to show them off when she is feeling well enough.




I still love my dolls, even though I do not play with them anymore. I will occasionally take one out of the cabinet and just sit and hold her. Every doll I own brings back certain memories, most are good memories, but I do have one or two bad memories mainly because of the person who gave them to me. I can’t wait to see if my grandchildren are going to love dolls. The youngest is only six months old, so she is much too little to show an interest; the other will soon be three years old, but right now she loves all kinds of toys

What dolls or old toys do you have lurking in your attic or basement? You never know what item you will find from your past. These things would make wonderful keepsakes for your loved ones. Anything you hand down to another person will have its own heritage, but it will bring precious memories of loved ones you’ve lost.

My Library Memories

I can remember the first time I went to the Mercer County Public Library, it was still located in historic Morgan Row. The building was old and this was in the late 1960s, so the wooden floors squeaked as you walked across them. Although the building held only a limited number of books, it was like the church sanctuary to me. I felt calm and at peace and free to touch and look at all the old books.

I didn’t get to go to the library much when it moved to the corner of Lexington and Main Street, but I did use the Bookmobile. I can’t remember what day the Bookmobile came to Riverview, but I always had a list of books I was looking for. Many times the Bookmobile Librarian would recommend a new book, but more times than not, she would have to bring the books I wanted back to me in two weeks.

As an elementary student, my favorite library was at Mercer County Elementary School. Ms. Joy Gash instilled the love of books and reading into my heart and I’ll forever be grateful to her. She always knew the perfect books to choose for me and many times would quiz me on what I had read. Even at this early age, I grew an attachment to certain books and when I started my own home library, these were the books I started with. “A Wrinkle in Time,” “Little Women,” “Are You There God, It’s Me, Margaret,” and the “Betsy” books were just a few of my favorites. I never was much for Nancy Drew, but I loved Trixie Belden.

It was my babysitter’s daughter who got me attached to Trixie Belden. I read all her books and then had to have my own collection. These were my pride and joy and I read each one of them so many times, I knew them by heart. Momma would always take me to J. J. Newberry Department Store on Main Street to find the newest book.

When I was 16, I thought I had outgrown Trixie, so I let a neighbor girl borrow my books – I never saw them again. When I started having children of my own, I would buy Trixie Belden books to read to them, but by this time, the books were all paperback. If I’m going to have a book in my home collection, it has to be a hardcover –unless the book comes no other way.

I had the Whitman 1970s edition of the hardcover books – the original 16 books. One year for Christmas, my wonderful hubby surprised me with a boxed set of all 16 of the Trixie books, just like the ones I had. He had monitored eBay for weeks trying to find just the right editions and the most perfect condition. You could tell that the girl who owned this new set of books had loved them and read them often, because I could feel her presence in every well-worn page and gently cracked spine. This has been one of my favorite Christmas gifts ever.

When I had my first children, the library was one of the first places I took the girls when they were old enough to behave in public. At three and four-years-old, Marie and Amber would attend summer library story hour with Mrs. Kathleen Day and the girls loved it. We would check out several books for the week. It was harder to make time for the library when I started nursing school, but we made do by checking out even more books when we went.

By the time Christine was born, Marie and Amber were not as interested in reading and had quit letting me read to them at bedtime. So, I read to Christine, even though she wasn’t old enough to understand.

When Christine was old enough to attend the library story time, Mrs. Day was still there and Christine fell instantly in love with her. We couldn’t check out enough books to last a full week and we ended up making two to three trips to the library per week.

Christine loved books so much, she started to have her own favorites, just like I did. If we would check out the same book more than four or five times from the library, then we would have to try and buy this book to have at home. Sometimes these books were easy to find; others were a little harder because they were older. One example is “The Best Little Christmas Tree” – we had to have it ordered from Tony Sexton’s bookstore that used to be where the Mercer Humane Society is now. We still read this book at Christmas and it still makes me cry.

About three years ago, I started a book blog – Bobbi’s Book Nook – and would post reviews of the books I read. It is unbelievable the number of book review blogs there are on the Internet. I was shocked; I had no idea there were so many. Even though the blog was for my personal use – mainly to help me keep track of the books I had read – I soon realized I enjoyed writing books reviews. Now I have a book review column “Kentucky Monthly Magazine” and for “GoodReads.”

With the opening of the brand-new Mercer County Public Library, I feel like a little kid again. No longer creeping across creaky wooden floors, but browsing almost 10,000 square feet of books and magazine. Some people may think enlarging the library was a waste of time and money, but for avid readers like myself, it is a treasure to the versatility of our community.

Hallowed and Hushed

Unknown. Hallowed and Hushed be the place of the dead. Step Softly. Bow Head.

Living in Harrodsburg my entire life, I have a sentimental attachment to Youngs Park, located on Linden Avenue, between the Mercer County Fairgrounds and James B. Haggin Memorial Hospital. I have so many memories of playing in the park, eating picnic lunches and attending family functions. My Granny Devine lived within walking distance of the park and I’ve walked the short block from her home so many times, I could walk it blindfolded.

Youngs Park has always been one of my favorite places to escape to when looking for a nice, quiet lunch. Many times I have driven behind the park to the lower picnic tables and enjoyed a sandwich while watching the antics of the squirrels. The squirrels have become so used to human contact, they will sit within easy reach of picnic tables or cars, eagerly waiting for a scrap of bread or a French fry to be thrown their way.

Many of my fondest memories of Youngs Park occurred during my Girl Scout years and our annual summer Day Camp. One week of each summer was dedicated to numerous scouting projects with a different theme for each day. I can remember tie-dying T-shirts, painting pictures, cooking over a campfire, learning how to mark trails, just to name a few activities. During the summer of 1971, our favorite song to sing – and we sang it at the tops of our voices – was Three Dog Night’s “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.” We thought we were so cool.
The highlight of the Day Camp would be the sleepover on Friday night. For the sleepover, the Boy Scouts would come and help us set up tents in the back portion of the park. Camping out was exciting and we looked forward to it every year. Campfires, homemade stews, and s’mores were all on the list of activities.

Another eager awaited tradition for the sleepover was the telling of ghost stories. Because most of the Girl Scouts ranged in age from 8 to 14, we were all susceptible to having the beegeezus scared out of us! And Youngs Park was the perfect backdrop for these scary stories because of the legend of the “girl who danced herself to death.”

I’ve heard the story all my life – an unknown young girl arrived at the long-gone Graham Springs Hotel and attended a lavish ball where she danced all night. She eventually danced herself to death, collapsing onto the ballroom floor at the feet of her partner. She was buried in an unknown grave on the Graham Springs property. It is only as I’ve gotten older that I’ve had the desire to check more into this legend.

Historic Graham Springs was located in the area of the current Physician’s Park and Haggin Hospital and was on the site of a natural spring. There were numerous springs in the Harrodsburg area and they were reported to have healing and restorative properties.

This Spring, that would eventually be called Graham Springs, was turned into a spa as early as 1807. In 1827, Dr. Christopher C. Graham purchased the Springs and in 1842 constructed the main hotel, Graham Springs Hotel. The hotel was a brick four-story building which Graham said would hold one thousand people.

Graham charged a fee of $20 per month to stay at the Springs and “take the waters.” Not only did guests enjoy and benefit from healing waters, they also joined in a lively social season which lasted from June until September. Balls and other entertainment occupied the guests while they drank the mineral waters. Graham claimed the waters helped to alleviate the aches and pains of people who suffered from such aliments as gout, rheumatism, dropsy, neuralgia, and “Autumnal fevers.”

Often called the “Saratoga of the West,” Graham Springs flourished until 1853, when it was sold to the United States Government for use as a military asylum for aged and invalid soldiers. Fire later destroyed main buildings and the place fell into disuse.

Sometime between 1842 and 1853, legend says a beautiful young lady appeared at the Springs. No one knew who she was, but it is rumored she came from “down South.” When arriving at the Springs, she signed the guest register with a fictitious name. After her dancing death, she became known as the “unknown lady,” although most people from Mercer County still refer to her as “the lady who danced herself to death.”

After her death and burial at the Springs, a mon-ument honoring her was erected. Currently, the tomb is located between the road and the shelter house, with a sign bearing the words:

Unknown
Hallowed and
Hushed be the
place of the dead.
Step Softly.
Bow Head.

As I child, I thought I saw the ghost of this mysterious lady on numerous occasions, but as I’ve grown older, I realize it was probably mass hysteria brought on by ghost stories around the campfire. Although, there was one night in 2004, as I was leaving work at the Haggin Hospital at three o’clock in the morning, I would swear I saw a woman dancing through the park. She appeared to be dressed in white and was walking near one of the large oak trees in the middle of the park. Thinking back, it was probably exhaustion or my mind playing tricks on me. But then again …



Added note: As recently as 2002, an article appeared in the Mercer’s Magazine claiming to have finally learned the identity of this unknown woman. This article can be read in its entirety at: http://www.angelfire.com/tn3/masterdetective2/Old_Mystery1.pdf.

Acknowledgement: I would like to thank my brother-in-law, Don Rightmyer, from the Kentucky Historical Society for helping me find information on Graham Springs.

My Favorite Cats

I have always been a cat person. Don’t get me wrong, I love dogs, too, but cats are my favorite pets of all. I’ve had many cats over the years, but my first cat will always hold a special place in my heart.

When I was seven years old, my parents allowed us to have an indoor cat. I’m not sure where the little kitten came from, but she instantly became a part of our family. She was a solid white Persian cat with faint black markings on top of her head. This little bundle of white fluff was so cute and my siblings and I argued over what to name her. They wanted cutesy names like Snowball or Fluffy; I wanted something unusual. Because of the black markings on top of her head were in the shape of the letter V, I convinced my siblings the name Vee Vee was appropriate for our beloved cat. And Vee Vee she would be all through my childhood.

For those of you who have cats, you know a cat chooses her person, not the other way around. Vee Vee tolerated everyone in our family, but she loved me. She would sleep at the foot of my bed or lay on my stomach whenever I was reading.
She loved to sit on the divider between the living room and the hallway – a little half wall with spindles. She would sit very still and then swat at people with her paw, as they would walk down the hall.

Or she would hide in a corner and jump out at your ankles whenever you passed by.
Vee Vee was especially bad at Christmas time when she would try and climb the Christmas tree. In the early 1970s, most ornaments were glass and we lost quite a few ornaments because of her adventures with the tree.

By the time I was married, Vee Vee was over 10 years old and becoming slow with her old age. My brother and sister wanted a dog for a pet because Vee Vee was no longer fun to play with. I was unable to take Vee Vee with me and she was too pampered and set in her ways to start being an outdoor cat. So, Vee Vee went to live with a family friend for the remainder of her life, and she lived to the grand old age of 17. Although I’ve had many cats since that time, Vee Vee was the first and I will always remember her fondly. Rest in peace Vee Vee - 1969 – 1986.

Sassy, Queen of Sheba, came into our lives when I was going through a rough patch in my life. Pogo our beloved Siamese cat (she deserves a story all to herself) had been gone for almost six months and although we thought about getting another cat, we had not done anything about it yet. With my 39th birthday fast approaching, Keith decided this was the perfect time to find a new cat.

We first went to the Mercer County Humane Society and there were some really cute cats and kittens, but none of them seemed right. We left the shelter slightly bummed out, but still determined to find the right cat, so we headed to the Boyle County Humane Society to see what selection they had.

As soon as we entered the “cat room,” I saw her – the perfect cat for me. She looked so much like Pogo it was eerie, almost like Pogo come back to life. A gray Siamese with blue eyes and a raccoon striped tail, only she was skin and bones, not fat and fluffy like my Pogo. But as soon as this little cat stuck her paw between the cage bars, I was in love.

We were told she was found wandering the grounds of the Pioneer Playhouse and they weren't sure how old she was. When she had her adoption “operation,” the vet thought she was maybe five years old.

We brought Sassy home and within a few weeks, she was pudgy and perky and full of life. We got her a silver rhinestone collar because she was the Queen of Sheba after all, and she soon was the rule of the roost.

Although she loved my hubby the best, Sassy always knew she could come to me for a snackie-poo. She loved bits of cheese and the occasional potato chip, in addition to Arby's roast beef and popcorn. At times, she was really obnoxious if I tried to eat in front of the television, swatting my hand and trying to grab a bite.

We lost Sassy sooner than we would have like – she was only with us for seven years. We've had several cats since the loss of Pogo and then Sassy, but nothing will ever compare to my Siamese beauties. Rest in peace Sassy - 2001 – 2008.

We had a house fire last August and we lost our three house cats, so we have not been ready to bring another cat into the house. We seem to have many feral cats in our neighborhood and I have no idea where they come from. Christine does feed them, so they seem to stick around and I know we had a litter born this summer, because we could hear the tiny meows. I think it may be time to call the Mercer County Humane Society and have them trap these cats for the “Critters without Litters” program. I don’t mind having feral cats in the neighborhood because they keep the mice and vole population under control, but I don’t want the cats to multiple.

Dog Days and College Days

Dog Days and College Days
By Bobbi Rightmyer

The dog days of summer have finally hit home and the heat and humidity that Kentucky is famous for is blazing forth in all her glory. Temperatures above 90 degrees, weeks and weeks without rain, and the sticky air that threatens for strangle the life from every living thing. I do not like heat. Just the least bit of heat is enough to raise my internal temperature to the boiling point. I like to be cool, or at least have some type of breeze to keep me comfortable. These days, I fell like someone is trying to smother me with a hot towel; my breath comes in labored gasps.

Dog Days of Summer (copyright Google Images)

The hot, dry weather has turned most grass lawns brown and crinkly, but it will quickly revive itself when the first rains come. I really hate to see people watering their lawns in the summer, wasting the one natural resource we are destined to lose in the next century. I do keep my tomato plants and a few flowers watered, but I use “gray” water to do this instead of fresh water from the tap or faucet.

English Plantain (copyright bdr)

Right now I have loads of English plantain flowers that I have been picking to dry for filling the bird feeders this winter. I have also been using the plantain leaves and flowers in my plantain salve – this is great for misquotes bits and for burnt fingers from cooking. It also helps to sooth and heals sunburns. I have continued cutting and drying several different grasses to add to the bird feeders in a determination to see which type of grass my birds like better, plus. The sunflowers have been slow to start due to the heat, and I may have to use grasses in my bird feeders this winter.

Queen Anne's Lace (copyright bdr)

The Queen Anne’s lace and chicory blossoms are so beautiful growing along the side of the roads and in the medians, so I’m trying to enjoy them before the county comes to mow. To me, there is noting more beautiful than the white lacy flowers of Queen Anne’s Laces hover above the delicate blooms of the purple chicory. They are like God’s gift to our little section of the world.

Chicory (copyright bdr)

Summer is a time for easy to cook meals or for firing up the backyard grill in order to keep the kitchen cool. You can through almost anything on a grill to make it taste better. Some of my favorites are corn on the cob, grilled while still in the husk; zucchini and other squashes; onions and peppers; as well as any type of meat you might enjoy. Chicken and fish are our two favorite meats to cook on a grill.

Currently, the Farmer’s Market is full of many types of healthy lettuces along with all the vegetables you need to make a wonderful salad. Romaine, Bibb, Watercress, kale, spinach, and even dandelion leaves—these all make wonderful salad starters. Just add onions, carrots, tomatoes, squash, cucumber—whatever you have growing, or quick on hand—and sprinkle with your favorite dressing and you have the perfect “house” salad. Add that half piece of leftover chicken, or extra strip of bacon, or can of tuna or salmon and you turn the house salad into the main entrée; and it is so healthy for you.

One of my favorite pastimes is watching a pair of Red-tailed Hawks soaring over the fields near our home. They apparently live in an old tree near the back of our property because we can occasionally here baby birds crying from the next. Red-tailed Hawks are beautiful birds to watch as they float high above the trees, gliding gracefully through the air.

Red-tailed hawk catching a snake for supper (copyright Google Images)

Mammals make up the majority of the Hawks diet, including voles, rats, mice, rabbits, squirrels and snakes. Many times you can see a mouse or a snake grasped firmly in their razor sharp talons, helping to keep down the varmint population. They will also eat other birds: starlings, blackbirds, bobwhites and pheasants. Personally, they can have all the starlings they want.

Christine and Hubby making "funny faces" at high school graducation (copyright bdr)

I guess the reason I’m rambling on about the dog days of summer is because I’m trying to keep my mind off the fact my baby will be leaving me at the end of the month. Christine will be moving to Berea the last full week of August and I’m trying – without success – not to think about it. I realize she will only be less than 90 minutes away, but with very few exceptions, we have never been apart for so long. Granted, she will be coming home some weekends, but I am going to miss our daily talks and all the sarcastic remarks she makes to me – only in jest. My grandbabies and great niece will help to fill the void, but it won’t take the place of seeing Christine’s smiling face every day.

My little Tadpole doing "Itsy-Bitsy Spider" (copyright bdr) - 4 weeks old

So, get outside and enjoy the dog days of summer. Relish the bright sunshine and beautiful flowers all around you, chase a few lightning bugs and spray each one with a water hose. The days are already beginning to slow down and night is creeping earlier and earlier into our days. Old man winter will soon be knocking at our doors.

What Can We Say?

This is a poem in memory of my mother
Brenda Carolyn Devine Sallee
November 6, 1944 – May 23, 2010



What Can We Say

We learned about love from you, Momma,
by watching your caring ways.
You let us know your endless love
in so many different ways.

We learned all we know about living
because you always gave life your all.
Your unfailing love was without limit,
as was your ability to soothe our hurts.

We learned about joy from you
in many fun-filled yesterdays.
You made us feel important
with endless encouragement and praise.

From you we learned forgiveness,
of faults both big and small.
With open arms and open heart,
you were gentle and yet so strong.

From you we learned to comfort and care,
but your lessons stopped not with family.
You loved your patients and loved your friends
and never said "No" to any calls for help.

Momma, we look at you and see a walking miracle;
you were our teacher and our comforter,
our cheerleader and our rock.
Your unselfishness kept us anchored,
every hour of every day.
You were dependable and full of comfort,
our cushion when we'd fall.

You helped in times of trouble,
though we sometimes caused you pain;
it mattered not what we did,
you supported us all the same.

How did you find the energy, Momma,
to do all the things you did;
to be teacher, nurse and counselor,
and full of inexhaustible love?

Nobody's quite like you, Momma;
you were special in every way.
You cheered us up, you filled our cups
with tenderness, come what may.

Nobody loved us more than you,
no matter what we did;
good or bad, happy or sad,
you were full of unconditional love.

Nobody's equal to you, Momma,
you truly blessed our lives.
We love you so and want you to know,
you were the absolute best.

We know we were all in your thoughts,
your love followed us everyday.
Thank you for all you've done
and given so generously.

We love you, our wonderful Momma,
you will be our blessing from above.
You set us free and steered us straight.
We'll miss you come what may.
The examples you have shown us
and the lessons we have learned
will remain in all our hearts
until we see you again one day.