Two family members honor their mother-in-law Mama Kay, who died at 87. She was a teacher who raised children with unwavering faith and showed up for every family milestone. Her youngest daughter Rachelle held her hand at the end.
Chapters
Goodbye, Mama Kay. You slipped away tonight. In the house you filled with love, with your family in the light. 87 years of living, and you You lived them all the way through. A full life, a well-lived life, and every hour of it was you. You earned your education in a world that was slow to give, and you loved to stand and teach it. You taught the way you believed we should live. You wore your faith like skin, never hid it, never faked.
And you You raised your children up in love, and you raised them up in faith. And I remember the first day and the first question you ever asked me. Hey, Kevin, what's the one thing about yourself you wouldn't want me to know? I told you. Heaven help me. I told you, and you never let me go. From the very first hour, you knew the worst of me, and still you chose the best.
Oh, Mama K, you loved me long before I earned the rest. More of us than most hearts could ever hold at all.
But you counted every single one. Every birthday, every stage, every fall.
You showed up for the small things.
You were there when no one came. And every great-grandchild alive learned the music of your name. She was good. She was good. She was stubborn. She was honest about both, and she gave her level best.
Teaching, loving, giving, giving, giving, till her body had nothing left to give.
She gave it all. Nothing left to give. But I was not the only one. Every soul in this family has a story just like mine.
She did that for all of us.
And you knew the worst of us, and still you You chose the best.
Oh, Mama Kay, you loved us long before we earned the rest.
Thank you, Mama Kay. Thank you, Mama Kay. She fought, she fought, she fought for every day. She never wanted To stop living.
She never once let go easy. But surrounded by love, her family was there in the home that she had made, in the quiet of that room. And her youngest girl, my Rachelle, held her hand. And never let it go. Goodbye, Mama K.
