A few weeks ago I lost one of the most important people in my life. My Mema went to sleep on November 16, 2025 and never woke up. Despite dementia starting a few years ago, the last number of months she had been tortured by the disease eating up her brain. When I last saw her in September, it was hit or miss whether she recognized me, but sadly mostly miss. The days are up and down. I miss her more than I thought I could ever miss someone, but I’m also glad that she’s no longer confused and scared. It broke my heart seeing her like that.
Someone once described losing a loved one as carrying around a brick that you can never put down. Everyday is about figuring out how to carry around that brick in life. I definitely understand this now. I know that it will get easier with time, but it won’t change how much I love her or how much I miss her. I always have the laughs and the love to think about.
Here are a few photos of us that I don’t think she would mind me sharing.
I had the honor of delivering a eulogy for her, I’ve shared it below. And because she so loved desktop publishing back in it’s hayday in the late ’90s and early 2000s, I printed it on that classic cloud paper, signed it, put it in a bright green envelope, and place a copy with her in her casket.
Dear Mema,
You were a woman who believed in writing things down. You loved your lists, your typewriter, and getting the details right. So, instead of a speech about you, I wanted to write this letter to you.
As I look back at the life you lived, I realize you gave me three gifts that I will carry forever.
First, thank you for the gift of Curiosity. You were my first teacher. I have such great memories of going to craft shows with you and Pepa. You didn’t just bring me along, you put me to work. You taught me how to count change back “properly” at around five years old. You taught me how to make sure the tea towels and blankets were nice and presentable on the tables, and you also took the time to walk me around and show me the world.
You made sure I was always learning. You were the guardian of my library, carrying around a list of Boxcar Children books to make sure I never missed one. You also were a collector of things yourself, and not just Beanie Babies. I don’t know anyone else that had a floor-to-ceiling wall of Bounty paper towels in their closet, organized with specific prints for every holiday and cute design you could find. You loved decorating for the holidays, especially Halloween and Christmas, and you were always prepared.
Your spark of curiosity burned bright until the end. I will never forget or stop appreciating your mastery of technology including texting, Facebook, Google Photos, and FaceTime just so you could stay close to us. I will always remember hearing you say to a friend, “You have to learn this stuff, it’s how you stay in touch with your grandkids.” You taught me that effort is a form of love.
Second, thank you for the gift of Humor. Everyone who met you had an appreciation for your laugh and playful mischievousness. I loved that I could spend weeks planning April Fools’ pranks like that letter from MIT saying that I was moving to Boston or convincing you that there were random horses on your property. And you would fall for it every single time, with that great laugh of yours. Let’s be real—it was a cackle if the joke was really good.
You were funny all on your own, too. We loved teasing you about “Horace,” the boyfriend we made up for you. I will never forget the year you bought yourself jewelry, wrapped it, and how when you opened it, you screamed “He went to Jared!” just like the commercial.
You also taught Lacey to curse. She started counting up all the curse words that you said one weekend and announced for every one you said, she got to say one too. Being the creative, enterprising person my sister is, she saved them all up and released a string of her best “damn"s, “shit"s, and “hell"s upon our parents arrival. I think we all laughed so hard we cried!
Of course, some of our best laughs came from simply teasing you about being you. Teasing was your love language that you passed on to us, and you loved when we gave it back to you. We all found joy in joking about the unique, unapologetic way you moved through the world. You knew exactly what brought you joy and we laughed about how strictly you stuck to it: your Coca-Cola, only in a bottle, your not-so-secret stash of York Peppermint Patties, and your firm stance against vegetables and spices. You and I often joked about the way you cycled through every name in the family—“Wayne, Mike, Michael, Casey, Gene”—before you finally landed on mine. Or how when you were done talking about something, you would dismiss it with a “that’s neat.”
Finally, and most importantly, thank you for the gift of your Heart. You showed your love in actions.Â
And that love didn’t stop with us grandkids; it naturally extended to your great-granddaughter, Aria. From the moment she was born, you made sure you had her photo right there on your phone’s homescreen so you could see it every time you looked at the clock, proof that you mastered that technology for a reason. And true to form, you were always ready to spoil her. You always had candy for her, along with those random, wonderful little treasures that you picked up for her while working at the thrift store.
You also showed your love when you made me a separate batch of fried chicken because you knew I didn’t like the catfish everyone else was eating. One of my most cherished memories will always be my birthday a few years ago when you didn’t just make me that chicken—you taught John and me how to make it ourselves. You didn’t just feed me; you saw me.
And speaking of John… Thank you for welcoming him. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that my two favorite people in this world, you and my husband, got to overlap in this life. Knowing that you knew him, and that he knew you, makes me feel whole.
Mema, thank you for the books, the laughs, and the love. I promise to keep the details written down, just like you would have wanted.
I love you and I’ll talk at ya later!
Love,
Landon
