Writing an Obituary

Writing an obituary isn’t easy. One is usually written under duress. Your loved one has died, funeral arrangements must be made, and the obituary needs to get to the paper for timely publication. Consequently, the obituary in the paper doesn’t always tell the story of your loved one. 

The first obituary I wrote was that of my maternal grandmother, Ruth Tankersly Stockton, in 1986. It was short. To the point, but nothing particularly special. In 2001, I had to write an obituary for Rodney H. Scott, my father. But, seriously, I don’t even remember doing it. Daddy’s death was a shock, and I seem to have blocked writing anything for him from my memory. The next obituary needed, was that of my mother, Billy Ruth Stockton Scott, in 2012. 

Mama passed away after years of suffering from COPD. She had been hospitalized several times and had always managed, against all odds, to make it home again. So, when she passed, I wasn’t prepared. Even though I knew she was living on borrowed time, I just wasn’t expecting her to die in that hospital that day. Again, the obituary was short, and to the point. It was fine, made the paper in time, and served the intended purpose – to notify those that would like to know of a friend/relative’s passing. 

There was quite a bit lacking, however, in the obituary. For example, I would have liked to say that Mama was strong willed, but soft-hearted. She had high expectations and wanted things done her way, but she could be very forgiving and easy-going.  She was not formally educated, but was well-read and interested in politics, art, and history. She loved antiques, pottery, and watercolors. She had an eye for decorating and her home was always comfortable and welcoming. Mama dressed simply, but loved seeing that her children and grandchildren were well-dressed. She was neat and tidy, and liked things “just so.” She was chronically late to any event she ever attended, even though she hated being late. She enjoyed having others in her home, enjoying good food and beverages. Even after her health started declining, she would invite her cousins to the house, for a meal and good company. She did not, however, like people making a fuss over her. And you had better not ever take her to a restaurant and get the wait staff to bring a cake with a candle and stand around singing “Happy Birthday.” This might have been the only thing for which she would hold a grudge. She loved having a good time and liked a good laugh. Mama taught us how to play cards. She regularly beat me, gloating with glee and in good fun, in Gin Rummy. I knew she was declining when I started winning. 

While we were growing up, Mama followed the kids in all their athletic endeavors. She made sure we had food and snacks and traveled all over Texas watching us participate. She followed her sister, a basketball coach, to the state tournament, and did the same when her younger daughter coached a volleyball team at state. She went to LA to watch her son participate in the Deaf Olympics in track.  

Home was where Mama was. For a long time, home has been Falfurrias. I lived in the Houston area for about 25 years. However, once Mama’s health started getting bad, joined not too long after by her sister’s (my Aunt Mary Lee Stockton) cancer diagnosis, I started spending more and more time in Falfurrias, before finally moving to Falfurrias in the summer of 2011.Friends in the Houston area would frequently ask if Mama and Aunt Mary would consider coming to live with me. I would just laugh and shake my head. “No, no way,” I would tell my friends. Mama and Aunt Mary had made it clear that Falfurrias was home and that’s where they wanted to be. “If you’re not from here, you just wouldn’t understand it,” Mama would say. Then, she would list all the negatives about being in Falfurrias. For instance, it was often miserably hot, dusty, dry, and the fleas, ticks, and ants threatened to overtake the farm. It never rained. There’s not a great deal available in the way of entertainment. The local grocery store is small and sometimes lacks a few things Mama liked. But, she always would then explain that it was the people of Falfurrias she so dearly loved. She had many cousins she grew up with still in the area. There were many classmates from Sacred Heart and the High School still around. Nope. There’s no way she was leaving and living anywhere else. She certainly understood those that chose to leave for more temperate climates and more excitement, but that was just not for her. Aunt Mary felt the same way. Staying put on the farm was their greatest wish. With Mama, we weren’t able to keep her home at the end. With Aunt Mary, we were able to let her go peacefully in her sleep, here on the farm. It was probably one of the greatest gifts the good Lord granted my aunt.

Fast forward a few years, and another obituary was needed, this time for my dear aunt, Mary Lee Stockton. With practice, I think this obituary might have actually captured much of what needed to be said. Aunt Mary’s health declined slowly, but steadily. She was initially diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and was given about 6 months. That was in October of 2010. She passed in February, 2012. Consequently, I had time to consider what needed to be said about my aunt. It was a very long obituary. And there was still probably more that could have been said. 

There was no greater testament to my mother, Billy Ruth Stockton Scott, and that of my Aunt Mary Lee Stockton, than the outpouring of love and many kindnesses shown in the days following Mama’s and Aunt Mary’s passing. Food magically appeared, coffee was magically made, cold drinks magically rested in ice chests.  Good stories and good laughs were shared right along with the grief and the tears.  At the house after the funeral, people seemed to be having a great time, something Mama and Aunt Mart would have dearly loved. 

A friend wrote a little sentiment in a card that I would like to share. She wrote “Heaven is celebrating your mother’s arrival. How cool is that?” How cool, indeed. I like to think that the two sisters, Billy Ruth and Mary Lee, are up in heaven, making the good Lord wonder what He was thinking when He let those two get together again. 

My third Mother’s Day without Mama, and my first without my other mother, Aunt Mary, is around the corner. I am so very, very sad to be without them, but am so grateful for all the lessons they taught.  And, I am deeply appreciative for the many kindnesses shown to the family in the days immediately following their passing.