The Burch Family Tree: December 2012

I'll start this post with my favorite bible verse, which was read at her funeral on Sunday.
Ecclesiastes 3

A Time for Everything

3 There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under the heavens:

² a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
³ a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
⁶ a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
⁸ a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

I take great comfort in these words. Because I know our separation is only temporary.

If I close my eyes I can still feel the warmth of the fireplace, I can hear her favorite PBS programs on the TV, Nancy's Notions, Julia Child, Nature, This Old House, etc.

I can still remember the feel of the crisp clean sheets on the bed in the spare bedroom. I can remember her peeking through the door to check if I was awake. Then I would jump out of bed and a chill would run up my spine as my feet hit the hardwood floors.

I remember the crackling of the fire as she worked to get it going. I remember the sizzle of the cast iron skillet as she prepared breakfast for the two of us. If I close my eyes I can still hear the dogs toenails as she paced the hardwoods. Nights spent in that house with her were the best.

I can remember Saturdays spent in Ashville paying bills running errands and making a quick pit stop to any yard sale we would pass by. I remember Sunday mornings spent at Mountain Top Flea Market.

I can remember my favorite thing to do with her, she had dozens and dozens of rings. I would walk into her bedroom, pull out the little drawer of the jewelry box and carry it in the den. I would take each ring out one by one and admire it. I would ask her where she got it or who gave them to her, and she without missing a beat could tell you who gave it to her, and on what occasion, or where she purchased it.

I remember a childhood trip to the Smokey Mountains in which she sat next to me in the car, singing along to the familiar country songs as they drifted out of the car speakers.

I remember the taste of her homemade vegetable soup, there's none like it in the world. The taste of her Dilly Dally Onion Rings, her ''Nanny Tea'' and her famous fudge. All of these things have had their time, and now only remain in my memories. My heart aches, it aches because I want to feel the warmth of her hugs, or the softness of her voice on the other end of the phone. I've played the voicemail's shes left me at least a dozen times. I know she wouldn't want me to cry for her, I know more than anything she wouldn't want that.

She was the one I would run to as a child when I would fall down and get hurt or be heartbroken over a boy as a teenager. She was my rock, she was the one person I could talk to about anything. Where do I stand now that my rock is gone? We all need someone in life, a very special someone who we have a relationship with like no other. Few of us ever find that person, and even less realize they have someone so special. But what do we do when they are gone?

I can imagine her walking barefoot on a beach with her blue jeans rolled past her ankles, with Papaw by her side. Just like in the photo I have of the two of them together. I can imagine how happy they both are to finally be together again. I can imagine them both looking down on all of us, their hearts filled with love and a huge smile on their faces. I can hear her voice say ''don't cry sweetheart, it's okay''

I look around and there are reminders of her everywhere, whether it be a photo of her or a pair of earrings, a book on the shelf, a afghan she made sitting on a shelf in the closet, a scarf, a shawl, a dress in Shelby's closet, a watch in Colt's room, a ring on my finger, a framed photo in the hallway. Everywhere I look there are reminders of her love for us. Although I cry, I am grateful for all these things. I am grateful for my 27 plus years that I was blessed to share my life with her. I hope that someday I can be as good of a Nanny as she was.

Rest in Peace Nanny, I'll never forget you.
Ruth Emily Smith Bevel
August 29,1937 - December 19,2012

A few photos I found on my computer...........