Anna Mary Phillips Richwine

Anna Mary Phillips Richwine, better known to many as Gram, passed away on April 7th at the age of 99. She was 2 weeks shy of her 100th birthday.

Gram was born and raised in Pennsylvania, but spent her adult life moving frequently between California, Oregon, Tennessee and Pennsylvania to be near various family members. (That being said, she was the best packer you’ve ever seen.) She loved her family and tried to keep in touch with everyone. She was close to her brothers and sister-in-law. She always spoke of them fondly. Well, almost always. We were frequently reminded that growing up, her little brother wouldn’t listen so she would lock him in the shed until their parents got home from work. They all laughed about it. You could tell there was a lot of love between them.

She loved her time living near us in Tennessee. She and Popper had a beautiful house in the country with several acres on a fairly quiet road. Her house was a peaceful place, and I loved visiting often. There was always something for us to do as Gram stayed busy at home. From daily walks down the road to crafts, baking and gardening, she let us tag along and help. She also let me drink Diet Pepsi from her wine glasses, and I felt so fancy. She called me Sarah Jane and Lovey and always squeezed my hand three times to tell me she loved me.

I loved spending the night at Gram’s. When she was ready for me to stop talking and get to sleep, she would always say, “Now, I have to say my prayers.” It was always so upbeat and gentle that it didn’t occur to me that was her way of getting me to be still and quiet. I will never forget waking to the fresh morning air coming through the bedroom window at her bed when I spent the night in Spring and Summer. It was always my favorite way to wake up. It just started the day off right.

Gram made friends so easily, which was great since she moved so often. People just loved her. She was generous, kind, a great listener and non judgmental. I can’t tell you how many times she would say, “That’s how they do things, and that’s ok. I don’t do it like that, but that’s ok, too.” She jumped in to be involved in the community wherever she was. Here in Tennessee, she volunteered in the sick room at my school and worked in the cafeteria. She kept in touch with her Tennessee friends for years and years after she moved. In fact, until they each passed away she would call them or send messages through us. She outlived all of them.

Gram loved to laugh and enjoy life. When she was telling a story or listening to one, she would often laugh until she couldn’t breathe. She would be full of joy and have tears in her eyes. She especially loved retelling stories of her grandchildren and hearing stories of her great-grandchildren.

She was a great mother-in-law and friend to my mom. They had a terrific relationship and shared many interests. Mom said they could talk about anything openly. She also fit right in with Mom’s family though they were from different worlds. In fact, one of Gram’s favorite people was Memaw’s sister, Aunt Gladys. Gram and Aunt Gladys loved each other so. They would talk and laugh and carry on. It was so sweet to watch them.

At Christmas, we would make tons of cookies of all kinds. Gram was making Snickerdoodles before anyone in the South knew what a Snickerdoodle was. She also made her own icicle lights from regular light strings. Again, before anyone around here. She would take old Christmas cards and make the cutest little gift boxes to recycle them. She did that with many things. Empty spools of thread, aluminum cans, scraps of fabric and much more. She made the cutest ornaments. She would always say, “That’s just some dumb thing I made.”

There are thousands of memories wrapped up in the years I knew her and a lifetime more created before I arrived on the scene. Gram was a strong woman who lived a long, beautiful life. She never thought she would make it past 75. I think she was preparing us all for her passing my whole life. She taught me death is a part of life. She never shied away from talking about it as such. I remember her telling me she one day she was going to take a rocking chair and climb a mountain and wait for God to take her like the Native Americans did. I don’t know where she got that idea, but I always knew she wasn’t afraid of death. Then, later on, she told she wanted to be cremated, and I was to set her urn on my mantle. One day when I walked by the urn she would tell me when and where to sprinkle her. I was a kid. We would both laugh at the silliness. Looking back, I think she was doing her best to prepare me for the day that is today. Knowing she was so ready does make it easier. She has been living out her final days on earth in Oregon so phone calls were the best we could do. Those were very infrequent the past couple of years due to her hearing being so bad. She just couldn’t understand anything we said. It has been difficult not to be able to talk to her.

When we were able to talk, she always asked about Jeremy and the kids. Though her memory was slipping a little, she always remembered details about what we were doing on the farm and Jeremy in particular. She would ask if he still had bees and was driving the school bus. She asked if he was happy. Each time I’d get off the phone and tell Jeremy she asked about him he would just shake his head. He couldn’t believe that she would remember all those details and ask about him specifically each time. She was concerned with his happiness though they were never able to be around each other much. That’s just how she was.

I miss her. I’m spending today reminiscing and baking. There will be Snickerdoodles in our future, and I pray for laughter that fills my eyes with tears and takes my breath away. She would want it that way.