In memory of Donna K

I went to a funeral today for a woman I've known most of my life. She was an incredible mother, wife, and friend. She treated those around her with respect, displayed remarkable candor, and never made excuses for those around her or blamed others for her mistakes. She was strong, charismatic, and dependable. In short, she was a true Steel Magnolia. It's always difficult to say goodbye to someone like that, because regardless of how long it had been since you spoke to her, you knew that you could always pick up the phone and she would answer and be there for you. Miss Donna K will be greatly missed by anyone who had the pleasure of knowing her.

Some of my earliest memories of Miss Donna go back to when I was a child. She would often come by my mom's place of business, because she liked to talk and, well, Maxine certainly isn't short on words either. She had two kids a few years older than me and my brother, and sometimes her daughter would come over to "babysit." We went by her house often, and as I grew up, she was always there in some capacity. Even as a child I knew she had diabetes, and often heard my mom chide her about eating candy, which was her vice. She got sick occasionally, and I seem to remember a couple of times when my mom visited her in the hospital when her diabetes got out of hand. Even battling this disease, she was always there, always funny and vocal, and seemingly invincible. She raised her two kids without a husband, sometimes struggled with but always seemed to make ends meet, and loved her grandkids to pieces.

Today my mom and I were talking today about some of our memories of Donna. The first time she met my brother (Cyd) and me, we were about 3 and 4. He apparently stomped on her foot because she teased him about something (and him being Cyd, and pretty damn mean, reacted as he was wont to do). She looked at him, then stomped his foot right back. I'm pretty sure that earned Cyd's undying respect, and he came today to pay those respects beside me and Maxine. My mom and I were able to laugh through our sadness, because that was Donna in true form and how we prefer to remember her.

I know her mother, who made several Easter dresses (and Civil War dresses, for that matter) for me when I was a child. I know her sisters, who grew up with my dad, and whose children I played with when I was a child. I know her children, who are now grown up and have children of their own. And all I could do today was tell them how sorry I was for their loss. And words just didn't seem to be enough for this incredible person. Words will never be enough to express how much she will be missed.