Requiescat in pace

Marjorie Rhodella Lamb Craig
May 29, 1924 - August 10, 2014
When she was born, they thought she was stillborn. She wasn't breathing. They put her aside, and somehow, miraculously, she started breathing. I remember her telling me that story so many years ago. And yet despite that early moment of doubt, she lived another ninety years. From feisty, mischievous child to the young wife and mother to whom my grandfather longed to return while stuck with tanks in the volcanic sands of Iwo Jima, who raised three children, several foster children, to the woman who was there so much when I (the child pictured) was very young and my father was overseas in Vietnam and my mother went through nursing school and night jobs, she was the backbone of our family. She bore the brunt of discord when the same child, now a sullen young teenager whose parent's marriage had fallen apart, came to live with her during high school. In some ways we were just too much alike, I guess. But she bore it with grace and always loved me anyway. She knew tragedy (her father was killed by a train in the 1950s, her sister by domestic violence, another was lost to cancer in her 40s). But she persevered. I swear to you that if you misbehaved flames rose up in those dark black eyes--you simply knew it was time to stop whatever you were doing. She cooked wonderful mashed potatoes, and barely sat down to enjoy a meal because she was waiting on everyone else. I have so many memories of my Ma spilling around in my head right now, trying to convince me that she is not yet gone. But she is. Sometime this week there will be visitation, a funeral. She will join my grandfather in the grave. But I have my memories, and some pictures, and a few things of hers to cling to. I knew this was coming; I made my peace with her long ago, and said goodbye. It doesn't make it any easier at all. She was like a second mother to me and a kind of glue in our family, and with her death there is just my mom and me in the area; my aunts and uncles and cousins are hundreds of miles away, to be brought together, no doubt, for a short time due to her death and funeral.

I am sad, even though I know it was a fairly peaceful death. I miss Ma already, so much. But people remain alive for us in our memories. I can still hear my grandfather's voice, and that of my other grandmother, and hers will join theirs. I know the pain will get better over time. But this night, this week, is going to be a difficult one, for me, for my mother, who was with her, for all my family. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers.