Rushie

 Ruth Henderson Hood Smith, my precious grandmother, passed away on Saturday, August 30th. She was 3 weeks (to the day) away from her 100th birthday. She always said she didn't want to live to be a 100. Her wish was granted. She was healthy for the most part, just living in a body that couldn't do what she wanted it to do at her age. I had a great visit with her on Thursday,  she was sitting up in her room carrying on a conversation with me just like always. She died quickly - from a stroke that either occurred right before she fell and hit her head or right after. We'll never know, but we do know that it was a merciful way to go at 99.9 years of age.

I think I could write about her every day for the rest of my life and just barely scratch the surface of the life she led. I think about all she saw in 100 years. What this country was like when she was born in 1914 compared to what it is today in 2014.

She was blessed to love and be loved by two amazing men. Her first husband, my father's father, passed away in the 50s when my dad was only 8. She was left to raise 4 children by herself until she met and married Fred about 5 years later. She and Fred had a 54 year marriage.

 Fred's job took them to Houston, TX in the 60s and 70s, but they eventually moved home to Charleston when I was young. They lived two blocks from my house growing up and I spent a ton of time with them all through my childhood. Not only would I ride my bike to her apartment at the Fort Sumter House after school for a coke and a cookie most days after school, but they went on almost every single family vacation we went on.

I have traveled all across the western states of the USA in an RV for three weeks, spent 13 consecutive summers traveling to England, Ireland, and Europe with them. I took countless trips to the beach and the mountains with them. The stories I have of the two of them from my childhood are priceless to me.

I also realize how truly amazing it is that she was able to enjoy my wedding and the birth of all three of my children. Not many people have the opportunity to spend 38 years of their lives with two active grandparents by their side, much less 10 years of their life with two active GREAT grandparents like DuBose has had. My children knew Rushie, really knew her. She always brought them surprises (usually $1 or 2), was here for all our family birthday dinners, told them stories of me growing up, and hugged them like she never wanted to let go.

She left a legacy of 4 grown children who adored her, 11 grandchildren who she spoiled rotten and 21 great-grandchildren she could call by name, almost always remembering details of what they were doing (grade, sports, etc.) which is impressive for 99.9 years! I am so sad that she was not able to meet her 22nd great grandchild, Smith, who was named in honor of her and Fred. He was born 9 days after she died. I know she was really hoping to meet him, but now she is his super special angel.

My three children took the news as expected. Ellie cried about it for days, insisting she wanted to see Rushie one more time so I let her do that at the funeral home. Ellie beamed and beamed while we said goodbye and tucked a special seashell into the casket with Rushie. I was apprehensive about her seeing her like that, but it was the right thing for Ellie. She has been completely at peace about it since then.

A quick story -- When our dog, Sullivan, died a few years ago, we told the kids the story of the Rainbow Bridge which is where pets go when they die. It is said that they play and play on the Rainbow Bridge waiting on their owners to come for them to take them the last little way to heaven. Well, Ellie recently asked Rushie if she would please stop and play with Sullivan for a bit on the Rainbow Bridge on her way to heaven. Rushie promised her she would. I think Ellie really pictures Rushie throwing the ball for Sullivan in this beautiful place.

Mills, too, cried and was very upset about never seeing Rushie again. A few nights after she died I was putting him to bed, saying our prayers and he was crying about it.  I told him that Rushie was happy. She was able to see perfectly (this was one ailment that Rushie hated - not being able to see as well as she wanted), she was able to run and dance with her parents, her siblings and her first husband. We talked about how she is with Jesus, happy and healthy. Mills, still crying, said, "It's like she was invited to a party that we weren't invited to." I told him that we all have invitations but we aren't going to the party yet, and hopefully not for a very long time. But when we get there, Rushie will be waiting with open arms to greet us!

After the visitation Mills, who had also chosen to look at Rushie in her casket, told me that Rushie didn't look particularly happy for someone who was at a party. After a much needed laugh, I told him that her spirit was at the party, and we were just seeing her old body, a body that was good to her and now deserved to rest.

DuBose was a bit stoic about the whole thing. He didn't want to see Rushie at the funeral home which was totally fine with me so he stayed a good distance away. He repeatedly told me he didn't want to talk about it, he was just sad. I tried to honor that at the same time letting him know I would talk to him about it any time he was ready.

After the funeral, at the interment, the family each put a shoveful of dirt on Rushie's grave. All of her children, grand children and most great grands participated. I was surprised he did, but he wanted to and afterward he buried himself into DuBose and I for a hug while he wept. I was glad he finally let it go and had some closure. He still doesn't want to talk about it.

The funeral was a beautiful celebration of her life. All of her grandsons and grandsons-in-law (DuBose, Ryan, etc.) were pallbearers. The oldest daughter of each family did a reading. I struggled to get through mine without completely breaking down. One of the harder things I've ever done, but it was a beautiful passage that will always be special to me.

 John 14: 1-6 ---

 “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. ² My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? ³ And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. ⁴ You know the way to the place where I am going.” ⁵ Thomas said to him, “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, so how can we know the way?” ⁶ Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.

It's been two weeks since she died (I'm postdating this) and it still doesn't seem real. My phone dings at me every Monday at 11:15 with a reminder to call Rushie. I usually didn't need the reminder but just in case, I wanted it so I could talk with her. I'm not sure when I will be able to cancel the reminder or if I want to - I still can call Fred after all.

It is still a bit unbelievable that I can't call her though. I'll never hear her voice this side of heaven again. Or feel her arms around me. Or tell her about my day. It's so sad to think that way, so I just have to remember that I CAN talk to her and I CAN hear her speak to me. She will always be with me, always a part of me. The influence she had on my life is not gone just because she is no longer physically with me.

I will always have the stories she shared with me - she had numerous stories she told me about my time spent with her as a child. She told them to me and the kids often, but I never tired of hearing them over and over again as they were part of her legacy to me and to them. I have a bazillion memories of her from my lifetime. I have thousands of pictures of her, loving on me, loving on my babies, traveling the globe with us, celebrating milestones and holidays.

Every time she and I said goodbye, she pulled me close and told me that I would always have a little piece of her heart. A little piece I stole the day I was born. She tapped her chest and then mine, clicking her tongue just the tiniest bit and saying, "You'll always have a little piece of my heart."

Rushie, I'll honor and cherish that piece all the rest of my days. Thank you for giving it to me over and over again in all that you did for me. All the stories, all the candy, all the $1 bills, all the "secrets",  all the hugs, and all of the love you gave me every day will always be remembered, and I'll share you with DuBose, Mills and Ellie always.

Godspeed. Until we can party together again.