Dear Mema,

Dear Mema,

I have sat down to write this letter a couple of times. And really have not felt that my words expressed the beauty that you deserve. You are amazing to me. You have the hands of a potter. You have had the ability to shape and change the trajectory of peoples lives through your influence. And I know this by the tears of my father. I know this by the many things that I love to do because they began with you.

The good and the bad I look back with fond appreciation and maybe with some laughter. I maybe did not grow up the hard life that my dad, aunts, and uncles had to endure working on a farm but I experienced the punishment aspect. I know what a switch means. I know what picking my own switch means. And I know also how much more a switch hurts than a belt. I was born with red hair. And I think your switch helped keep me tame.

One thing that you taught me that sticks with me everyday is cooking. I love it! There is nothing that completes a day more than cooking. You were famous for cooking chocolate pies. They were the best! I still have not been able to master them, but one day I hope too. And when I was a little boy you always cooked me cabbage. I don’t know how much butter you put in it, but boy was it good. Then there was breakfast. One of my favorite meals to cook. You would scramble my eggs and make them a little runny with lots of pepper. That is my favorite way to have eggs. There are so many things that I do that I go, “I learned that from Mema.”

Then there was this other side of you that I only got to peak in at times. It was your love for Jesus. You were confident in where you were going. You knew Jesus loved you. And you were fully aware of it. I knew there were days as a kid that I would come in to your room after you had gone to bed and you would be praying. Rarely did I get to see what stood at the center of your life. But the moments that I did inspire me to this day.

One question you asked me often was “did I have a girlfriend.” And with hesitancy I always said no. Then I replied with asking you “did you have a boyfriend.” You would reply “shhhhhuh.” As you were laying in your bed on your final day on this earth I wanted to tell you something so badly. I wanted to say that I found someone I liked and I wanted to tell you her name. I can only have faith that you heard my words.

Here we are today. I can hear you say, “Baby, your Mema loves you.” When I saw you in that casket I didn’t think you looked like the Mema I knew. Because the Mema I know is alive in so many of my moments in my life. When I cook for my family you are there. One day when I pray with my kids you are there. And when I tell them that they matter you are there. In the eyes of my father you are there. Your memory is alive as can be.

I love you!

Jason