Diane

As some of you may know, my beloved mother, Diane, passed away two weeks ago today. I am struggling to adjust to any day without her. She was my very best friend.

I wrote the piece below (with a great deal of assistance from my sister, Lizzy) to be read at her funeral service. I thought I would share it publicly in tribute to her.

Diane with the Tulip Poplar in front of our house.

Our mother had beautiful penmanship, the kind of graceful handwriting that harkened back to a more elegant time. If you ever received a note or card from her you know what we mean. Her signature, especially, was museum worthy. She created graceful upward swirls and sweeping rounded circles on the page and in life.

She was born Sylvia Diane Southwell. The only child to Donald and Ruby Southwell in Andalusia, Alabama in the month of February in 1948.  She was doted on, encouraged, and loved; She used to laugh and say that she may in fact have been doted on TOO much; a situation she defined as being “petted to death.”

She was a conscientious student and excelled in academics. She was proud of her graduation from The University of Alabama as a Phi Beta Kappa. She loved music and grew up singing a cappella in the Church of Christ. She played the piano and kept music a constant in our home. She often sat down at the piano to play or sing simply for her own enjoyment. Clair de Lune, her favorite piece.

She and Dad were married on a sweltering day in August 1970 when the air conditioning at the Andalusia Country Club was on the fritz and Mom’s hair fell flat from the humidity. But it was the precious beginning of a glorious 52-year journey. Never once did we hear Mom speak ill of Dad or disparage him in any way. Her respect for him was total. It is possible she may have had a few moments of MINOR frustration over Dad’s lack of interest in organization. But she loved him more than words can say.  Diane and Dent.  Dent and Diane. Even their names fit together like building blocks. They were perfectly matched opposites.

Dad said simply, “She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. She still is.”

Theirs was a relationship that was solid; the strongest we have known. They created for us a happy supportive home. They loved us fiercely and unconditionally. But their relationship was not built simply on parenting duties. They agreed on all the big things; shared private jokes; challenged each other intellectually, laughed, and hugged.  The only crack in their great partnership that we ever knew of apparently occurred in the aftermath of a particularly tedious Iron Bowl in which the Crimson Tide was less than victorious.  As they exited the stadium, Mom calmly and silently took the orange and blue shakers Dad was holding and slammed them into the garbage bin.

They shared great adventures; Egypt, Greece, Norway, Morocco, Italy, to name only a few of their travel destinations. Their favorite place - the island of St. Barth’s.  Interestingly, we were never invited to St. Barth’s. It was something only they shared.

We love that our parents loved each other so much.  Because of their example we know and understand commitment, compromise, sacrifice, and true abiding love.

As a mother, she was simply wonderful. Never did we doubt her love for us, never once did she let us down. She mothered us in the truest sense of the word. Whether she was driving to school to deliver forgotten gym clothes, helping to decorate a new apartment, or staying up all night to rock a new baby; She was always there, always available. Ready to jump in the car or board a plane to come to our aid at a moment’s notice.

She gave a lot of advice, usually unsolicited. She often said that she wasn’t doing her job if she didn’t continue training us. The job of a Mother was never done. Once we left home and went to college, we began to receive neatly folded xeroxed pages of highlighted material in our mailboxes.

How Wearing Bright Lipstick Can Make You Happier

Correct Grammar Usage:  Lie vs. Lay

When to Plant Perennials

Why Calling is Better Than Texting

The Perils of Second Hand Smoke

And, of course, endless treatises on sun protection. Her own notes added into the margins.

We also received envelopes containing nothing but comic strips cut from the newspaper. Mom loved the “funnies,” as she called them. Sometimes she just wanted to remind us that life is full of humor; don’t take things too seriously.

Mom schooled us in the art of manners and presentation. These things mattered she said; she wanted us to have respect for ourselves and others.  She wanted us to be nice house guests; the kind that get invited back, she said.  And she really, truly did want us to wear lipstick.

Most of all she valued empathy and kindness and she reared us to be compassionate women.  She said over and over again that the only thing that really matters in life are your relationships.  She cared for her beloved parents and in-laws. She phoned friends simply to “check on them.” She befriended those who were new to town.  She delivered countless meals and wrote notes and cards of support and encouragement. She listened when someone needed an ear.

There is no better example of what a mother could and should be.

She was our mother, our leader, our champion, our friend.

Once Mom said that she was just a small-town girl trying to make good. She took pleasure in the beauty of simple things. The tiny hummingbirds that came to her feeder at the kitchen window; a slice of key lime pie; enjoying lunch with a friend; the limelight hydrangea; sitting in the den reading the newspapers with Dad; singing through the old Church of Christ hymns.

Her signature in life was easily read; beauty, kindness, laughter, and love. 

There was only one Diane. 

How lucky we are that she was ours.