She made soup stock from tomatoes, okra, onion and corn from Daddy’s garden; it was delicious.
And healing!
When I feel terrible and nothing sounds good, I often think of those glass canning jars lined up so colorfully with my Mama’s soup stock ready to open and enjoy.
Her cooking made me feel better.
So today, in honor of my precious Mama, I made soup stock with vegetables from Gary’s garden. The taste of Mama’s soup was much better to me, but mine is good enough.
My mother passed away Sept. 4, 2017, which was Labor Day that year. I was with her, and with a small sound that seemed surprised she left this earth as the sun came up shining through her hospital window.
She had microvascular brain disease, which left her with what was like dementia from the tiny strokes that damaged her and made her lose so much.
I really don’t know how much she remembered in flashes, and in dreams, perhaps. The medications also took her from us as her personality dimmed with what was prescribed to keep her comfortable.
But I believe she was in there.
Perhaps with one foot in heaven and one still here, she leaned into the future where she lived and was healed with her Savior Jesus Christ, reunited with Daddy and all those who had gone on before.
She was a hard worker, a Southern lady, a singer, smart with a quick Irish temper and a beautiful smile.
When her mother died eight days after her birth, Mama was taken in to raise by “Auntie,” her father’s sister. Her daddy, who named her Constance Susann after a racehorse was, understandably, not qualified to raise an infant who was struggling to survive.
Family stories say Auntie came on the train to Memphis to the hospital where Mama was at the time, scooped her up, put her in a shoe box with blankets, and took her back to the big farm she and Big Daddy worked.
She fed her black- eyed pea juice (pot liqueur) and mashed up Southern cornbread! Mama recovered and thrived in the hot Delta sun.
Mama told me many stories of growing up and the adventures and misadventures that filled her days as she grew, went to school, sat on the pew with Auntie at church and belted out “Halla Lu YAH! Diney Gory!” (Hallelujah, Thine the Glory”) the only words she knew of the songs from the worn hymnal.
She continued to have adventures and some funny misadventures in her assisted living home, but she continued to hold on to her faith, I believe.
One day at a meal we were sharing, she stopped, put her napkin in her lap, looked at me with those fierce blue eyes, and said, “Wait, I’m gonna pray for you! ‘Cause you need it!’” And she did. And I did.
Mama, thank you for that day, for that moment, and for that prayer.
I still need it.
I love you, you are real to me, your family remembers ... Connie Sue Allen Ellard, Dec. 16, 1923 - Sept. 4, 2017. Alive and thriving in Heaven.
