This week, the Face App came out and it’s been all the talk in the world of social media. Everywhere you look on IG, there is a post of what we’ll all be looking like in our older years. I totally jumped on board and I will say, my future face isn’t look bright but at least I’ll be married to a handsome, old man.
Timely in this popularity of an app, my Mamaw (grandmother) passed away this week at the age of 85, almost 86. She had been living in her own house independently, the one she and Papaw built together. She did her own grocery shopping, drove herself to hair appointments, went out on the lake with us, and lived an active and healthy lifestyle in her 80’s. I posted on Facebook thanking our local community in KY for their prayers and acts of kindness while also asking folks to share any sewing stories with us. My Mamaw is a seamstress and has sewn more things for the people in our community than anyone ever before her or anyone to come, I believe. The stories— she has been a part of weddings, proms, beginnings of putting together homes, quilts and pillows made of loved ones clothing that had passed away, graduation gowns, wool and lamb on parades (you needed to have shown livestock to get this). I can’t go to any room in my house without finding something she has made for us. That is hard and beautiful in this season of grief.
We suddenly lost her to a stroke. During our time in UL Hospital with her on that Neuro floor, we saw many people come and go. Some rooms had many family members, others had none. Old and young and mid-aged. Her room barely had standing room and had so many generations present.
In a week obsessed with aging and what we’ll look like, Mamaw’s life showed us what our faces look like mean nothing. I wish we could see our hands because that is what she used the most to leave an influential legacy in our family and in our community. I hope my hands are aged by service to my people and my community likes her are.