Tributes

We would be pleased if you posted your tributes on this page

Cecile’s Memorial

Bernadette shares the lyrics of “The Rose” – a very special song for Cecile:

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you its only seed.

It’s the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance.
It’s the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.
It’s the one who won’t be taken,
Who cannot seem to give,
And the soul afraid of dyin’
That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the Son’s love
In the spring becomes the rose.

Author: Amanda McBloom

Denise’s Tribute:

Mom,

So many of the things that make me who I am came from you.  You gave the world to me mom, not in things or possessions, but in ideas and exposure to culture. With you I heard Pablo Casals on cello, Jean-Pierre Rampal play flute and saw Dame Margot Fonteyn dance the ballet.

You shared the French language with me, French culture and the French love for food and conversation. But you didn’t stop at France.  I learned about the whole world, partly through the foreign exchange students that visited from India, Thailand and Ecuador.  We got to know a man from Japan, Mr. Nishikori as well.  When you couldn’t bring the world into the home, you supported them by sponsoring impoverished children and sending money for chickens and goats to people in Africa and South America.

You were always adopting someone or something.  If someone needed a temporary home, you gave it to them.  Including animals – we had quite a menagerie through the years; who will ever forget the guinea pigs?

One thing I could never get you to do was make me a chocolate cake for my birthday, because Daddy didn’t like chocolate.  I learned two things from that – that it is not always about me, even on my birthday, and apple spice is a pretty good flavor in a cake. Don’t worry, I got my chocolate in lots of other ways.

You tried to pass on your family heritage and love of sewing to me.  Sorry I was not an enthusiastic pupil, but I think I made up for it in painting.

Even though you lived with us the last two and a half years, and advanced to the honored age of 91, it was not enough time for me.  I will miss you, mom, but I know I’ll see you on the other side.  Have a chocolate cake waiting, ok?

Denise

Malcolm’s Tribute:

Mom,

I remember your gentle touch as you picked gravel out of my back after a dirt bike crash.  I don’t know if it was your nurse training, or that sixth sense you had toward me and knowing when I was in pain.  Like when you told Dad to get ready to go to the hospital, that I had been hurt – 45 minutes BEFORE the hospital called and told you I was there with a broken leg.  You hated it when I started riding bikes, and I knew you always feared for my safety.  But you trusted me enough to let me take you for a ride on one.  I don’t think you felt any less concern for my safety, but I do think you understood why I love it so much.

Your granddaughters were flabbergasted when I handed you a newly acquired rifle to inspect.  I explained to them that when Dad taught me to shoot, all those years ago, he warned me that having been on the NORTC Rifle Team, that you could outshoot both of us.  When we took you out to the range, I doubted it, and you proved me wrong.  You were always full of surprises like that.

The long summer vacation trips after you both became teachers were always fun… even though my sisters got to pick some of the sights we saw.  And when I started traveling the world on my own in the service and for work, your letters always made me feel close to home when I wasn’t.

You tried to teach me to speak French once, but I had the same problem as Dad when you tried to teach him your native language, we just couldn’t master the accent.  I did learn to say Tet-ya-push although I have always wondered if it really meant cabbage head, like you said it does.

You did manage to teach me how to raise children.  Which really came in handy when I became a single father of two daughters.  Your two granddaughters are doing fantastic jobs of raising your four great-grandchildren so your lessons have been passed along.

I guess the thing I am most grateful for is the life you gave me; for that I will never stop loving you.

I love you Mom.

Malcolm

 Yolanda’s Tribute:

I am the oldest granddaughter of Cecile. Of course, I designated myself the best grandchild she ever had!

My mission over the last few years was to keep my grandmother happy and healthy. Others in my family might have called me bossy, but when it came to my “Sweet Girl”, which is what I said to her each time we spoke, that was okay.

My grandmother raised me for part of my life, for which I will be eternally grateful. She was more like a mom then a grandma.  She took care of me and kept me safe and in her last few years of her life that is what I did for her.  I enlisted the compassionate help of my favorite Aunt (I only have one) and my Uncle to give her a home, love and take care of her. Of course, that meant a move to Florida away from their friends and family, but without hesitation they did, and for this I will forever be grateful to them. Not just for this act of kindness but more so for the love and support they gave her.  It takes sacrifice, commitment and energy to care for an aging parent but it takes heart do it in a way that the aging parent feels whole and loved.

On several occasions I would get a call, “Yolanda, Grammy is not behaving”. So I would get on the phone or Skype and have a talk with her reminding her she needed to be a good girl. She asked me several times why she had to do what I said; I told her because I said so and I was getting her back for the years she told me what to do. She would laugh and concede and all would be good again but not without a silly look on her face or a nose scrunch to inform me she was not happy about it.

My grandma was many things: a nurse in the military, a teacher, a business owner, a mother, a grandmother and a great grandmother.

To me she was a gift and I am hopeful that in her life she knew how much she was loved. She will be in my heart forever…

Love,
Your Favorite Granddaughter…

Yolanda

Background photo of roses by Audrie Weston