Mildred Irene Wilson 1929-2017
Once on an oceanfront summer day, we were on a walk. For whatever reason I had brought along my prized inflatable pool raft and sure enough, the ocean breeze caught it up and stole it from my grasp and sent it barreling down the beach. What a sight we must have been from that point on. A bathing suited little girl, chasing her beach hat wearing Mamaw, chasing a pool raft. You finally caught it, then caught me and walked us back up the beach with my hand in your grasp as you weren't about to lose raft or granddaughter again.
Webster's defines "chase" as - pursue, in order to catch up with. Throughout my life I've chased my Mamaw I admire. I chased after you into gardens and you took my hand teaching me how to prune azaleas and raspberry bushes. I chased after you into the kitchen where you took me by the hand and showed me how to dress a turkey and make cherry cheesecake. I chased after you into the field of nursing, and again you took my hand and listened to me bemoan IV drip rates. I chased after you as a wife and into motherhood and you took my hand through stories, insight, and your ever steady presence and love.
And two weeks ago I chased down I-95 to come to your bedside and you once again took me by the hand. This time, I couldn't follow you. I said three words, you said three words; I love you. The last from you I'll hear this side of Heaven. Now you're in the arms of Jesus. But I'm chasing you, in order to catch up with you. I'm running the race set before me to the glory of God. And one day, I will be with you and once again you'll take my hand and show me the glory of Eternity.
I love you.