Carolyn Ruth Grass

My dear, sweet Mother,

When The Light arrives to gently carry you away, you ask not to be eulogized. How could I fail to honor my consummate role model, my mentor, my best friend? Ever since I was a child you ushered me into the glories of nature, and what a time it was! You focused my attention like a lens of precision, passion and gratitude on each enchanting gift – ocotillos tipped in flowers of brilliant vermillion, fragrant creosote mimicking the scent of rain, acoustic coyote songs rising from the gully to attune with whole notes of Moon.

You opened the desert behind our backyard into a free-spirited wonderland and exemplified how to live on the edge of this breathtaking creation. Here you taught me an invaluable life lesson. If there is not something wild living within you, go to a wilderness and find it! And when you do, never attempt to tame it! We looked for images in clouds and slept outside beneath stars that lit up the sky like a million flickering candles. You made home a collection of experiences gathered along wilderness paths we traveled and loved. What a momentous time to be given the freedom of exploration among an endless stretch of desert at such a young age. The surrounding Franklin Mountains jutting upward from this beloved childhood sanctuary was an offering of astonishment for as long as I can remember. We scrambled down gullies and clambered up hills collecting treasures of long gossamer gowns from snakes that slipped out of their skins alongside fossils cradled in limestone from an ancient sea. We scoured the ground for owl pellets packed with tiny bones wrapped in fur. Who wouldn’t love an assortment of bare bones that write themselves into poems? And there we stood, feasting on the immensity of indigenous poetry! It is here we lived closer to wild than we had ever been!

And when you are called from this earth, our love will carry on… You will always know where to find me. I will be encompassed by a beautiful mountain wilderness or a garden teaming with bouquets of colorful hummingbirds. You will watch me grow older with each passing year. And then, one day, when you no longer catch sight of me slowly navigating my way along the foothills or tending the nectar garden filled with penstemon and hollyhocks, trumpet vine and autumn sage, I will be standing by your side. I’ll make my way back to you because love cannot be set apart…

What have I left unsaid? Everything and nothing. Love covers all.

I love you with all that I am. I love you with all that I will ever be.

Janiece Ward

Our mother had an uncanny ability to make every lovely detail count for two daughters with vastly different interests. “Sisters are different flowers from the same garden.” ~Author Unknown

I am her firstborn. Growing up I loved the social crowds. My sister embraced the desert’s quiet solitude. I watched scary movies. My sister glued her attention to Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom each Sunday evening. I listened to Queen’s vinyl records scratch against a worn stylus. My sister reveled in nature sounds of birdsongs and rainstorms. And right alongside us, Mom embraced it all with her zestful versatility. (Well, to be honest, I don’t think she was thrilled with the decibels at which my music was played.) She encouraged us to explore, to live passionately, to forge a path towards that which brought us joy. She did so with loving guidance.

My iconic hippie-attire-days of tie-dye t-shirts that Mom and I designed served as wildly colorful backdrops to the large leather peace sign that hung around my neck. I donned multiple POW/MIA bracelets like a bangled bohemian to increase public awareness of those unaccounted for in the Vietnam War. All of this was a vast contrast to Mom’s all-white nursing dress code. Readying herself for work in the 70’s was a stringent endeavor. It entailed everything white -- hose, dress, a cap methodically secured to her lovely wavy hair with multiple bobby pins, and shoes rigorously polished of scuff marks. She always left for work looking impeccably beautiful!  While living in Gallop, New Mexico she worked her way from a Nurse’s Aide in eighth grade (not to be confused with volunteer Candy Stripers who wore pink-and-white-striped pinafores) to supervisor of the Emergency Room at Providence Memorial Hospital in El Paso, Texas. She loved nursing! Her compassionate spirit and unrelenting dedication made a difference in the many lives she touched.

Our mom, the born-at-home Trimble County Kentucky girl, was the best enchilada maker this side of the border! She taught me how to prepare her authentic sauce of dried, red chili peppers emboldened with a hint of cinnamon and brown sugar! She helped hone my cooking skills by teaching me to rustle up dishes from scratch with creativity and adaptability. More often than not, she waived written recipes for an improvisational approach, “a dash here, a pinch there” with frequent tasting along the way. What a joy it was to be her kitchen assistant!

Mom was always up for a celebration, especially at the Pink Store in Palomas, Mexico! This unique oasis in the desert filled with festivity, margaritas, mariachi music and delicious Mexican food was Mom’s favorite go-to entertainment destination! Because of her mischievous, playful ways, she was always the life of the party!

Mom, you will forever remain the kindest, most generous, caring person I have ever known. I love you endlessly.

Julie McKinney

To respect our mother’s wishes, there will be no funeral service. We invite you to privately celebrate her memory in a way that feels befitting to the way she lived her life of great passion.