Blog Hiatus

For the next few months, I plan to focus on finishing book 6, With Liberty and Justice, so future posts will be scanty... unless I'm about to burst about something that would apply to Comfy Socks. : )

Gangy

Isla Casey

December 5, 1933 - June 26, 2013

Eulogy

Have you ever attended a funeral where they said so many nice things about the dearly departed, and you looked around to see if you were in the right place because you didn't remember all those wonderful qualities about that person? Well, this isn't one of those eulogies because everything I tell you about Isla Casey, our mother, or Gangy, as she's known to her grand and great grands, as she called them, is the truth.

This isn't a repeat of her obituary that was printed in the funeral programs. That's a simple outline of her life, and there is so much more to her than that. I want to share a few more things about the kind of person she was, and those details often fall between the lines of the obituary.

I was so blessed to have spent the last four and a half years as roommates with my parents. I know now that God knew what was coming and orchestrated so many things in our lives to prepare us. Most of you knew Mom had ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease. Just five months after she moved to Taylor in 2008, she began slurring her words. But for fifteen months, we were told she had something treatable, but none of the treatments worked. We were devastated when they finally diagnosed it as ALS, but we learned to live one day at a time and face each challenge as it came. Mom didn't deserve this disease, but she never showed any anger or bitterness about it. She never complained or felt sorry for herself. She accepted it with such courage and grace, and did the best she could. 

I am so grateful to have spent this time with her, and I'll treasure it always. I got to know my mother in ways I've never known before, and it made me love and respect her even more. And I have to mention Dad in this eulogy because it's hard to write or talk about one without including the other. They truly epitomized "two will be one" when it came to their marriage.

I'm a writer, and if I had been in my mother's shoes, I would've taken every spare moment to write down all of my memories and hopes and dreams and thoughts--past and future for my children and grandchildren. And I hoped Mom would feel the same way, but she didn't. I had to keep asking her questions about her growing up years and the places we'd lived, and she'd answer them, but only after being prompted. I'm grateful for the stories she told me, and there was so much more she didn't tell me, but I came to accept it.

Looking back over the years, I realized that Mom put her time and effort into relationships in her life. She valued and focused on people rather than the controversial issues or thoughts of our day. She told me one time after I was probably stressing and over-analyzing something that I would be a lot happier if I didn't think so much. And I think she was right.

My mother was born on a cotton farm during the Depression, but her father took good care of her and her family, and they were able to turn around and help others in need. I think that made a big impression on her because I saw that pattern repeated throughout her life. But Mom and Dad were quiet about it; no telling how many people they helped through the years that we don't know about.

Momma's father died suddenly when she was only thirteen. When she was a junior in high school, she and her mom moved to Three Rivers. Before too long she started noticing this good-looking man working at the hardware store downtown. She told us that two other girls were chasing Jimmy Casey, too, at that time, and that she just outran them.

Mom had just turned eighteen when she married Dad in a simple ceremony in George West, Texas, in a motel office that the preacher managed. They spent their honeymoon weekend in Cotulla, Texas. Little did they know that seven towns and sixteen years later they'd be living most of their married life back in Cotulla. At the time of their marriage, Dad was in the Navy stationed in Corpus Christi, and then he was transferred to NAS Alameda Island near Oakland, California. They were so far from home, but I think that helped cement their relationship because they had no one to depend on but themselves. They had their first two children there-- my sister and me, before heading back to Texas.

They tried their hand at cotton farming during one of the worst droughts of the century during the mid-fifties, and I share this because Mom told me those were the hardest years of her life. By then, baby #3-- a son had arrived, which meant she'd had three babies in three years. She said you have to be young and stupid to do that, but she never regretted it. And eventually they had a fourth child, another son. The only thing that saved her during those farming years, she said, was Daddy taking her and us young-uns to the drive-in movie every Friday night. At the end of those three years, though, they had to sell everything they had to get out of debt, and Dad changed to a career involving electronics.

Mom learned to bloom wherever she was planted, and the phrase fit her perfectly. Until they moved to Cotulla, they moved about every three years in order to advance in Dad's job. When they lived in Fort Stockton, they lived in four different houses in those three and a half years. I never really thought about how hard that must've been for her, but she handled it just fine.

Mom and Dad always lived within their means. That didn't mean they didn't need help at times, but for most of their married lives, they were always willing to help anyone who needed it. Things have never owned them, and they've been content with what they have. I can tell you that the Casey kids ate a lot of baloney sandwiches at roadside parks when we traveled, and we hit a lot of parks and historical sites through the years. But our favorite trips were when my parents spent many inexpensive vacations visiting our cousins back on the cotton farm, which meant nine rowdy kids under one roof. But all of those times together as a family have made the best memories.

I love my mother's heart for helping. When they lived in Harlingen, she volunteered at the big hospital not far from their home. She and Dad volunteered ten years working with the Texas Baptist Men Camp Builders, where they traveled around Texas (primarily) and lived in a camper trailer eight months out of the year working at church camps providing labor for construction projects. And within a few months of moving to Taylor, she began volunteering an afternoon a week at the local hospital gift shop. She and Dad also volunteered at the Food Bank, and Mom helped count the money for the church and she and Dad helped fold the newsletters that were mailed each month. She continued to work for as long as she could after her diagnosis.

My mother so loved my father and took such good care of him. Since I've lived with them, I learned that she spoiled him pretty good. But my dad got his turn to be her hero as he so sweetly took care of her when she could no longer take care of herself. The Casey kids never had to question their love for each other or for us, and we're so thankful for their example of what a marriage should be.

Mom loved games. She loved watching Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. She especially loved the San Antonio Spurs, and she never missed a televised game if she could help it. Dad and I would walk through the living room and check the score every so often, but it was too nerve-wracking for us to sit there and watch. But she stayed with them 100%. She told me several years ago after moving to Taylor: "A loving family, a beautiful home, and getting to watch the Spurs... it doesn't get any better than this."

Momma loved the Lord and lived out her faith with her actions, not just words. That's how she spoke best. The first thing my parents did when they moved to a new community was find a church home. I told them when they moved to Taylor that we could visit several churches and they could pick whichever one they felt God leading them to. I brought them to First Baptist Church first, and during the invitation Dad leaned over and said, "Y'all ready?" And we walked down the aisle and joined this church.

 

Momma loved to sing, and she joined the choir in every church she attended, including Taylor First Baptist until she couldn't sing anymore. She sang alto, and I don't know how many of us learned to sing alto standing next to her, but probably many.

I don't know about you, but I learned that generally, my mother knew best. We loved her sense of humor, and she loved to laugh. She was game for anything and was so much fun to hang around. When our family gets together, one of the things we do best (besides eating) is laugh.

We all wore moustaches in honor of our youngest brother Bobby's 50th birthday

My mother made good friends every place she lived, and she knew how to be a good friend. Thank you for being a friend to her.

But most of all, Momma loved her family, and she was so proud of every one of her children and her grands and great-grands. And we all loved her fiercely. She was the rock and the heart of our family, and we will never be the same without her. I'm going to write her story one day, if for no one but her family because I want her descendants to know what a special person she was. But if you knew her, you've already read the book, and that's the best part... knowing her.

I love John Mayer's song, Say What You Need to Say. Too often someone passes before we tell them how much they mean to us. I had some time with my mother, which gave me the opportunity to tell her the things I needed to say to her. But I had to write them down because I couldn't help but bawl every time I wanted to say something significant to her. And if it's written, it can be read again and again. I want to encourage you all to not wait until someone's gone before you tell them how much they meant to you.

I dedicated my last book to my mother, and it was after she lost her ability to speak. I'd like to share the poem I wrote for that. It was written in first person singular, but I've changed it to first person plural because it could be the words of my siblings, too.

For our mother, Isla,

whose eyes first saw us;

Our best and worst attempts at anything in life

find safe harbor with you,

along with our pieced and quilted hearts.

We love your intelligence and humor and generosity;

You taught us so much

by how you lived your life;

More so than words,

Much more so than words.

We still see you vibrant and beautiful,

and that won't change,

even when our roles reverse;

You've always been strong for us;

It's our turn now to be strong for you.

We still hear you;

We've not forgotten your voice;

It lives in our memories,

and there it will remain

until it's perfectly restored on the other side.

We love hanging out with you,

even in the storms;

And no matter who gets there first,

Remember our date by the gate;

Until then, we'll walk side by side with you.

Thank you for honoring Mother with your presence today. Thank you for your friendship with her. Thank you for all of your acts of kindness in visiting, sending cards, calling and checking on her, having Sunday School class at the house so she could still be included, and many other expressions of love for her. 

We can't wait until we see her again, and we will, based on our faith in Christ. God bless you all.

Photo borrowed from MyInvisibleCrown.wordpress.com

Mom used the thumbs up sign to say "Yes," or "I'm fine," or to agree with you. And she used the love sign to tell us she loved us.

We love you, Mom!