HEART AND SOUL

Life Lessons from the Angel of Death Have You Ever Wanted to Publish a Book?

HEART AND SOUL

My heart is blooming, not just her flowers.

I was asked once during a radio interview, “Who would you say had the greatest influence in your life?”

Mazelle with me-or one of my own babies.

Without a breath or blink I answered. “Mazelle Patterson.” Don’t get me wrong my parents were wonderful, too. They blanketed me with so much love and guidance. But Mazelle, well, she was the most influential person in my life. Sadly, we buried her.

As a newborn Mazelle was there when I arrived home from the hospital. She rocked, embraced, and nurtured me as a baby and toddler.

I remember how I clung to her leg, apron, or thickset fanny as a child. Sometimes my mother would allow me to sleep over with Mazelle. There, she would tuck me under a frayed quilt and lull me to sleep as she sang gospel lyrics, or quoted bible scriptures.

She whispered words of affirmation as she wrapped my blond ringlets around her finger. “You a sweet girl, Prissy, you sure be.”

This repetitive positivity infused my mind and instilled those core values, traits, and characteristics one needs to live a harmonious life: empathy, kindness, gratitude, ambition, love, and humility.

As teenagers she scolded, punished, and supported my sisters and me. She taught us right from wrong, as well as sympathy, consideration, and all the characteristics I believe make a person likable, respectable, and successful. Even as adults she continued to mentor the three of us.

Her trouble makers grown-up: Deborah, Gina and ME

She could tell you anything you wanted to know about the bible and never complained– no matter her misfortune, sadness, or physical pain. She oozed only gratefulness, positivity, and joy from her core through her pores.

More than once I heard her pray as she lifted a glass of water to her lips, “Thank you, Lord, for this water I’m ’bout to receive.” Oh, how she loved the Lord!

She self-taught, was self-learned, and excelled at anything and everything she conquered. She did so with cleverness, courage, and conviction. Her plethora of gifted talents evolved from staying power and her stubbornness in a life too hard. She never gave up. Never.

Mazelle enrolled in the local junior college and learned how to upholster furniture, then she opened her own upholstering business. She also enrolled in a professional baking class where she learned how to create magnificent wedding cakes. That, too, became a side business. Oh my, the lady could cook her way around any expert chef. Ask the hundreds who tasted her feast.

I won’t call her perfect since she had a flaw. Her lousy driving. In my earliest years– before I had a driver’s license–she hauled my whining self here, there, and yonder. Her speed alone shut this tweenager up. She scared me senseless.

I’m in back-seat white-knuckled!

Indianapolis lake house. We yanked her off!

When she drove from Lake City to Tallahassee for a visit, her trip was 20 minutes shorter than anyone I knew. This only because she drove 80 miles-per-hour and everyone else drove the speed limit.

As she approached her 95th birthday, the car we had gifted on her 85th birthday, stopped running. When we bought the car, ten years earlier, my husband and I figured she would drive another year, maybe two, and that would be it. By then, she would be 87 or 88-years-old. She was independent and loved living alone, not having to depend on anyone for anything. Hence, the gifted car.

But I swear, she outdrove the lifetime of that stupid car by ten years. Finally, it broke down. Yay! We thought. Until I answered my ringing phone. “I think it can be fixed.” she declared. It couldn’t, it had 200K+ miles. She lived alone and had no interest in ‘giving up’ driving. Ugh!

We began a hunt for another used car for her. Mazelle shared the pending car search with her daughter, June. A few days into the hunt I answered my ringing phone to drama. “Prissy, don’t you dare buy her another car. She’s too old and can’t see!” she scolded.

June, if you’re reading, I’m sorry and pathetic! And don’t blame m y husband since he had to live with me. Not to mention, your mother kept him fed when he was in college and broke.

Dale with Mazelle 1969

Dale and Mazelle 2019 -50 years later!

When her license was expiring she called. “I’m studying the book to take my driving test again.” Say what!

I pacified my sisters, mother and everyone else, “Don’t worry, she’ll never pass that test!” I was confident.

When I answered my ringing phone she squealed, “I passed!” Her excitement was virtually visceral. What was wrong with those testers in Lake City? I wondered.

“How could you pass with only one eye?” I asked.

“There’s plenty of soldiers driving round with one eye!” she said.

“Well, they aren’t 95! Lordy be, you’ll be 98 when it expires.”

Two birthdays (96 and 97) came and went. Her car insurance bill grew heftier and heftier.

She called me worried when she got a copy of the bill. “It’s a dirty shame what they charge us!” she said.

“What’s this us sh*t… you mean me.” I laughed. “They can charge me anything they want, you’re almost 98.” She gave me one of her belly laughs.

“I sure do appreciate it, I sure do.” And she did…I have 42 ‘thank-you’ voicemails saved on my cellphone to prove it.

Yes, I know. I was a titch stupid to abet her driving. But it was Mazelle and she never asked me for anything. In my defense, I did demand she drive only back roads, the ones with little traffic.

Her “no drive” proclamation to me!

It was April when I called her. “Mazelle, you know you have just six months left to drive, right? Your license and insurance expire on October 6, your 98th birthday!” Did I just say that?

In truth, when the pandemic hit, it imprisoned her at home. She no longer cared much about the car. The isolation and lonliness kept her from church and the people she loved. The vehicle was nothing more than a symbol of her independence. The alternative… a new identity, in the ebbtide of her life. She could no longer be a giver but would become a taker, depending on everyone for everything. It was impossible for her.

As it happened, Mazelle suffered a massive heart attack a few days before her birthday. My heart struggles with the timing of that heart attack and her snatched independence. But God whispers to me, “Prissy, she was 98 years-old.”

Mazelle’s service was perfect. The c louds parted and the predicted rain slipped away. I was engulfed by a gentle breeze as I listened to gospel soloists and speakers share songs and sentiments for the most influential person in my life.

Joy and pain were tangled inside my heart. I wept through my snotty mask with tear-filled sunglasses.

Her great-grandson, Choyce Robert Williams, only ten-years-old, authored his own poem and titled: Grandmother’s Love. He read it aloud so proud. Clearly, her legacy of talent lives on.

Some people grow roots inside us and stay even when they leave. Mazelle is rooted inside me where she will live on forever.

She was a kindred soul through my happiest and darkest hours. I am privileged to have been part of her life. Mazelle, I will always lean my heart as close to your soul as I can.

God speed! Enjoy your mansion in the sky, beautiful angel!