I finally realized this morning that there was nothing I could type that could come close to encapsulating her. Honestly that was more of a release of pressure then a disappointment.
At 83 years old, she lead a more full life then I could only hope to experience; even though she never left her parish until two years ago. She became a young wife and instant mother to two boys that my grandfather Tate's first wife had widowed. She went on to have 12 children of her own: seven boys, five girls. My mother is the second daughter - somewhere around the half way point of the children. Always with a baby on her hip and one growing in her belly, she still managed to run the house and the farm. One of my earliest memories is watching Mawmaw walk from the barn with a chicken in each hand and a cigarette hanging out of her mouth.
What amazes me most were her endless supplies of love, calmness and ingenuity. There was not a single person to walk through that door who didn't feel her love and her warmth. It didn't matter if you were one of her 76 descendants, an in law, a neighbor or just a friend of a friend who knew somebody who was related to an in law. Until the moment she died, that house was bustling with running children, screaming adults (only because you have to be loud to be heard), blaring TVs and barking dogs. When we asked her if she wanted us to close her door for some quiet she'd just smile and say "no sha". She would be more disturbed by the quiet, then by noise. Although my aunts and uncles may tell a different story, my memories of my little Mawmaw Ruby were always of a quiet woman. She may not have had many words, but when she did - it was worth listening, and not just because of the bent index finger waving at your face. That gesture alone meant a number of things - usually that she was trying to conjure your name without calling you by your mom's name, or she's about to forget what she had to say. Either way, it was in your best interest to listen. My favorite, which was not a laughing matter at the time, was when she was really angry, you would always start to hear "Hail Mary, full of grace!!!" come from her little lips. If she made it all the way through the prayer, you knew you were in big trouble.
Ruby was a very passionate woman - not only for her family but for all living things. She had a knack for growing anything, and I do mean anything. It was her love of flowers that she passed onto my mother and then onto me. It was flowers that first gave me a real outlet for creativity, my first job, my own business, and caught the eye of the one who would help me along on my career. If you asked her, she wouldn't consider herself an artistic woman, but she was creative. It really was amazing to see the things she could do with old rags, used paper plates or clothes pins. All of us Tates seem to have inherited a bit of that ingenuity.
Although it brings me to tears to think that she never lived to see me in a wedding gown or to hold my children, I am so grateful for every moment of the last 25 years with her. She has truly influenced every avenue of my life and who I am more then she could have ever known. I miss her constantly but am so thankful to know that her little body is finally at rest.
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