Sometimes, I have to work through grief here on Motherhood and Muffin Tops. Something about writing helps me feel my way through loss and kind of sort it out in my mind. The process of shuffling and organizing my feelings so to express them in words has always worked to soothe my heart's hurts and I need that today.

She was 94 when she died on Sunday. For years, she begged me to call her Jean, but I'd explain that I just couldn't refer to someone, who was old enough to be my grandmother, by her first name. Just the thought of it made me squirm as it went against the deep grain of my southern upbringing. She deserved more respect from a whipper snapper like me. So, for the many years that we were friends, I called her Mrs. Wright. A formal greeting for someone considered a friend, but she understood my deep-seated dilemma. Born when Calvin Coolidge was president and just a few years before the Great Depression, she'd lived through so many things that I've only read about in history books.

She would've been 68 when we came on the scene of her life. Davis and I bought our first house in 1991 just before we married. We had some of the sweetest neighbors there, who doted on us as a young couple. But, little did the 24 year old me know that I was moving next door to one person, in particular, who would continue to be in my life, three moves and 27 years later. An unlikely pair, given the age difference, but crossing all sorts of generational lines to join her in friendship showed me some beautiful things that are becoming scarce in our time. It would serve all of us, younger generations, well to befriend someone, who forces us to slow our steps to keep pace with them. The world looks so different at that speed.

I will never forget the smell of her house. Her door was always open for a surprise visit. If you were in the area or had a little time to kill, there was always Blue Bell ice cream in the freezer, sugar cones in the cabinet, and cold Coca-Cola waiting in her frig. Chocolate, her addiction of choice, was a sure thing in her crystal candy dish. "Come in this house" was the standard greeting as she held the storm door open, ready to dispense a hug. Jeopardy was on TV and if we were going on an outing, we couldn't leave until it was over and the mail had come. I've spent a lot of time on her bar stools just visiting. Mrs.Wright was part of a generation, who knew the value of a good visit. The art of forgetting the time and leaving behind the rush to just sit face to face and enjoy someone you love. Somehow, we allow that beautiful practice to be largely choked out with messages on screens and distended schedules.
She didn't need to have any grand or elaborate plans to enjoy time together with friends. She was always up for lunch or a trip to an antique store or discount store or even to Sam's to just peruse the fruit section. She didn't require great planning or anything that cost too much money. "I just enjoy being with you," she'd always say. Her generation grew up without all of the bells and whistles and options we're accustomed to today. She knew that it didn't matter where she went as much as who was next to her.

One of the best times we ever had together was at the Mississippi Highway Patrol office trying to get her driver's license renewed. Those may have been among the most enjoyable 3 1/2 hours I've ever spent. I believe I even blogged about our shenanigans, that day. We all tend to get bogged down in the details and plans in trying to achieve the perfect experiences. We build our itineraries and raise our expectations and summarize it all in well-crafted social media documentations. Sometimes, we forget we might best enjoy the people beside us, while doing something completely ordinary or mundane.....something that doesn't take the attention off of those we love.
She always greeted her friends with "Hey there, good buddy" and every conversation ended with "Bless you and thank you". She was humble and gracious. Always wanted to return a kindness with a kindness. Even if your kindness was in response to her kindness, she just couldn't help but keep the kindness cycle going. It was just who she was. She was a beautiful and giving soul. Never forgetting a birthday or special occasion even as recently as Carson's birthday, ten days ago. Despite my protests, she pulled her little purse out from under the covers of her hospital bed and thumbed through her wallet to find a little something to put inside the card, which she'd had me buy since she was hospitalized. In her shaky handwriting, she wrote a personal note to him and licked it shut. He will treasure it forever. A note written to him by a dear lady, who likely knew she'd not be around to wish him another Happy Birthday. Nineteen was as far as she could go with him. She learned that Carson loved Rolos, a couple of years ago, and we currently have 4 big bags of them in our freezer. After discovering his fondness, he couldn't eat them as fast as she could give them.
When Blair and John Samuel married, Blair had already accumulated a large collection of Christmas tree ornaments that Mrs.Wright had given her each Christmas ever since she was a little girl. Around September of each year, she'd start mentioning the task ahead of picking out the perfect ornament for Blair. She put much consideration into her kind gestures and invested her time in customizing her thoughtfulness to each recipient. And with as many friends as she had, her thoughtfulness and kindness were never diluted. Everyone received the full strength and measure of her love. Deliberate and tailored acts of thoughtfulness. They might not be as flashy or jaw dropping and might come with a less impressive price tag, but they cost much more of our time and require a far greater effort....those things that we, younger people, find the very hardest to give.
Even as an older lady, she was never afraid to try something new. She had the latest iPhone and, while she, sometimes, required a little technical support from her friends, she wasn't intimidated by the latest technology in the least. She'd text with one finger and show me the pictures she'd taken. She'd swipe and scroll and made her best attempts at adapting to the times, which were a far cry from Calvin Coolidge's day. She had a computer, an email address, and even a Facebook account for a little while. She'd even adapted to her car that had no key and all of its modern features. It doesn't take long for any of us to start feeling like we're falling behind in staying current on the newest conveniences. Mrs. Wright refused to be left behind without a fight. She wasn't one to fade into the landscape.
I don't know many people her age, who still have as many friends as she did. Not only her contemporaries, who are a most impressive group of ladies, but she had friends of all ages. I told someone today that we were just blessed to be part of her flock. There was just something special about her that endeared her to everyone, who crossed her path. Waitresses, neighbors, nurses, salespeople. I would quietly observe the immediate draw she had on them. There was usually an instant spark of affection upon meeting her. Some people are just that way, you know? It was a gift she possessed and it brought along with it a cornucopia of dear friends.

We lost something beautiful on Sunday. An old friend. In every sense of the word, really. It was quite sad to wake up to a world without Jean Wright in it, today. My children don't remember life without her being a part of it. They were both brought home from the hospital to a little house, which sat next to hers. And we are all the better for it.

Mrs.Wright, "Bless you and thank you, good buddy." You were so very loved. We will remember you always.