My mother-in-law, Joan Fay Berman Burwell, mom-of-Babe, left the earth on November 28 of this year. And do it her way, she did. It used to drive me crazy. I know, don't speak ill of the dead. But it did. In fact, she so much knew it of herself (that she did it her way) that she planned for the Sinatra song to be performed at her memorial service. I was so proud of my daughter Cate, who pulled it off beautifully. As an aside, Cate was the second way that I won major points with Joan. We named her Catherine (after me) Joan, and Joan was thrilled. Come on, all my sistas-in-law, you too could have been the favorite! (The first way that I won major points was that I was MUCH better than Troy's past girlfriend, just in case you were wondering.). The first way that Joan won major points with me was by birthing Troy Burwell, #themostamazingbabeever. That was really all she ever had to do to win me over.
At her service, we shared some hilarious stories about Joan, who sometimes was a bit naive for her own good. For example, she visited her doctor once to diagnose some neck pain. After the doctor's question, "What brought you in today?", she put her hand to her neck and chest and said, "My scrotum's been killing me!" At another visit, the doctor asked the typical litany of questions, ending with, "Are you having extra marital sex?" She got quiet and introspective, and then she replied, "Well...how much is too much?"
Also at the service, we shared how she had found the love of her life in Dudley Burwell, how she had raised five amazing kids, and how she could cook like a Michelin chef. What I wish we had talked about more was what an amazing grandmother she was. For my kids, for most of their growing up, she was the only grandmother involved in their lives. She came to Atlanta to visit newborns, to see musicals, and to attend birthday parties. Atlanta Hartsfield is not for the faint of heart, and that she navigated that airport and all that is involved with travel did nothing but impress me. She came bearing gifts, always. She played games with the kids, watched movies with them, and let them tell her stories. She never forgot a birthday. She came with us to the beach many times, even when she was so weak that she could barely walk from the condo to her beach chair. She was 91 on her last beach trip. I am sorry, but if I am still around at 91, y'all have fun at the beach without me. I will be in my comfy bed at home, watching Netflix and petting my Chihuahua. But not her. "Her way" meant that her grandkids were that important to her. I never had a grandmother who cared as much about me as Joan cared about her grandkids. My kids don't quite realize how blessed they were.
Troy did such a good job saying goodbye to his mama. He spent the last two weeks of her life with her in Jackson, Mississippi. He sat by her side, prayed over her, sang over her (poor lady), and played worship music for her every day, several times a day, for two weeks. We all came to tell her goodbye, and joined Troy at her side for days. Finally, we had to get back home, and so we left. In typical Joan ("I do it my way") fashion, she passed away just as we were driving back into Atlanta. I think that she did not want her kids and grandkids have to watch her die.
Joan, I hope you are having the time of your life worshiping the Lord and catching up with Dudley. We miss you, but we are so happy that you are not living in pain anymore. And one more HUGE thank you...for birthing that fifth child, the one that I got to marry. Oh you did SO well on him!