About five months ago, on June 18, 2017, my paternal grandmother, Septima “Buddy” Holmes Porcher Murray, passed away at age 91. At the time, she was my last living grandparent.

Relevant to this blog, she also provided me a place to live during my second and third years of law school, as she transitioned, slowly on my account, from Atlanta to Charleston. 

Buddy was one of the most positive and generous people I knew. On this Thanksgiving, I am especially thankful for the time I had with Buddy, and that she was able to meet and interact with her great-grandchildren a number of times.

While I am still processing her death, I have decided to post something I wrote shortly after hearing the news and also read at her funeral. These thoughts on Buddy and her life are posted below the break. Buddy’s formal obituary is posted here. 

————-

“Wonderful!” This was probably my paternal grandmother’s most frequently used word. Her day had been “wonderful,” her great-grandchildren were “adorable and wonderful,” she had “a wonderful family and life.” Even as she grimaced, holding onto my arm as we descended the stairs leaving her only daughter’s home, she paused to smile and say, “I’ve had a wonderful night, just wonderful.”   

A masterful storyteller, Septima Holmes Porcher Murray (“Buddy” to her twelve grandchildren) held our attention with her tales, even past her ninetieth birthday. Over time she repeated herself more and recognized us less, but her stories maintained the same passion. Her stories tended to focus on her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren, with regular embellishments betraying her pride in her wonderful family.

Buddy’s brightly-colored wardrobe matched her personality. Her elegant, striking white hair contrasted nicely with the oranges, reds, blues, and purples she regularly wore. Her joy and gratefulness increased as she aged and were contagious. She was truly selfless – always generous with her time, money, and even the rooms in her homes.

Buddy was a gifted artist, but I never heard her talk about her art. She was uncommonly smart, but never made anyone feel inferior. She somehow managed to play nearly flawless bridge for decades with dear friends, even as her eyesight and her mind faltered. She was patient and kind, a thoughtful giver of good gifts. She loved Jesus, her family, and her many friends well.

Early on Father’s Day, my father’s mother left this world. But Buddy is not altogether gone. All three of her children – Allison, Chip, and Jack – carry her storytelling ability, her creative and keen mind, her love for family, and her strong faith in God. She leaves a wonderful legacy, and we believe we will see her again.