Quiet Mountain Essays
| Copyright © 2008 |
| Sugar by Nancy Davies |
Her given name was Mary Elizabeth. Her family called her Babe. My sister and I called her
Grandma. Her oldest great-grandchild, Jessica, dubbed her Sugar, a name that would stick with
her for the last twenty years of her life. When Jessica was small, Sugar would take her little hand
and say, “You’re just so sweet, you need to give me some of that sugar.” Jessica already had 2
other grandmothers, so this one became her Sugar.
Sugar lived independently until well into her 90’s, although she was increasingly losing her short
term memory. You would notice it in conversations that would be repeated several times in a single
phone call. She would forget where she parked her car on trips to the store. Her neighbors
reported seeing her driving on the wrong side of the street. It was at this point that my mother
intervened and moved Sugar to assisted living near her home. She continued to slip into a life in
another world and was frequently visited by “the folks” that had long since passed away.
Sugar had one daughter, then two granddaughters, then four great-granddaughters before the
first boy arrived. She always said she wouldn’t know what to do with a boy, but she and Brett had
a connection from the very beginning. When he was fussy and refused to be calmed, she would
hold him in her arms and whisper to him, and suddenly all would be right in the world and he
would drift off to sleep.
They shared brilliant blues eyes and a tendency toward social anxiety. On the night of Brett's
death, Sugar called my mom at 2:30 in the morning, something she had never done before and
never did after. She was distraught and said, “My family is leaving me.” My mom, unaware that
the unthinkable had happened, told her she was dreaming and she would call her in the morning.
Sugar repeated herself, then hung up the phone. It wasn’t until the next morning, when my mom
received word that Brett had passed away during the night, that she remembered the call and was
taken aback at how strong the bond between Sugar and Brett appeared to be.
Sugar didn’t want a funeral and no obituary appeared in the paper after she died.
My mom called family and her few surviving friends and that was that. So now, three years later,
there is still this lingering feeling of unfinished business, a need for closure.
It’s time to pay tribute to a life well lived. Better late than never.
First off, I have to say how very odd to wrap up someone’s entire 98 years of living into a few
paragraphs. How do you differentiate between who someone is and what they have accomplished?
There are many things that seemed so important at the time, but now seem so insignificant. Does it
matter where she went to school? Is it worth mentioning which clubs she belonged to? Would you
want to know that she called coats “wraps” and suitcases were “grips?” Would she want you to
know that she hated having her picture taken? Should I tell you stories of her dry wit that would
often catch you off guard? In the end, I decided she would want it short and straight. So here it is:
"It is said that life is the hyphen between birth and death; the dash between the years on a
gravestone. Mary Elizabeth Hodges Nesselrod filled that gap with her quiet strength and gentle
spirit. She was a wife, a mother, a sister and a friend.
She accepted what life gave to her and felt blessed. She lived simply so that she could share what
she had with others. Her smile, her love, her grace will be her legacy.
We will miss her and hold her in our hearts, always. Godspeed, Sugar.”
| Contributor's Notes... |
Nancy Davies lives in Portland, OR with her husband, two of their four children, and two dogs. She graduated
from the University of Washington with a BA in Communications and has spent the past 12 years working for
adidas in Community Affairs. Ms. Davies has also been published in the Story Circle Journal.
from the University of Washington with a BA in Communications and has spent the past 12 years working for
adidas in Community Affairs. Ms. Davies has also been published in the Story Circle Journal.
