We can do no great things; only small things with great love. – Mother Teresa

On Saturday, my family lost a beloved member: my Great Aunt Will. She was my grandmother’s identical twin sister. They both taught elementary school in Wichita Falls for decades. For most of their 50+ years in the area, they both lived on the same street with their husbands, dropping by each other’s houses often. Because the four of them were so close, both in spirit and in geography, for us grandkids it was more like having an extra set of grandparents.

One of my favorite memories of Will is our holiday meals. Both Will and Grandmother considered it blasphemy to serve their families a simple, store-bought meal at any time, much less for Thanksgiving and Christmas. Since they lived across the street from each other and our respective branches of the family got along well, we always gathered together both our side and Will’s, including her son, daughter-in-law, and two grandsons (my cousins). If Will hosted Thanksgiving at her house, Grandmother hosted Christmas across the street at hers, and the next year they switched.

The morning of each meal was an awe-inspiring symphony of culinary mastery. They planned the menu together in advance, deciding who would cook what and scheduling time in their combined four ovens. They employed the ladies of the family as sous chefs and sent us grandkids running dishes, ingredients, and folding chairs back and forth between the houses. It was like watching Miguel Harth-Bedoya direct the Fort Worth Symphony. Seemingly without breaking a sweat or tossing a snippy word at anyone, they focused all their talent, passion, and experience into creating a fantastic meal for all of us to enjoy. And fantastic it was. Sweet potatoes with marshmallows. Fruit salads. Roast turkey and ham. Cranberry sauce. Stuffing. Rolls. Mashed potatoes. Green beans. You name it. Plus a tableful of desserts.

Once we all sat down to enjoy the meal and company, Will and Grandmother always drew protests by continuing to fuss over us instead of enjoying their triumph – going to fetch hot bread for everyone from the oven (cold bread was unacceptable, of course), bringing replacement silverware when one of the kids dropped theirs, refilling drinks. The adults, and later the kids, tried to stop them, but they were there to serve, not to be served.

The food was always amazing, but lots of people can make great food. Will and Grandmother, though, cooked great food with great love. They adored their families and treasured every minute they got to spend with them, especially when we could all be together for the holidays. Those decadent feasts were one of their favorite ways to show their love.

Will got to demonstrate her great love in another, less happy way later in life when her husband developed Alzheimer’s disease. I have decided that Alzheimer’s is one of the cruelest diseases I can imagine. As his mind deteriorated, Will stood by her husband of over 50 years and became his rock, even after developing some health issues of her own. With remarkable grace and patience, she loved him well through all the questions, confusion, loss, and pain that Alzheimer’s brings. While many patients become crotchety and mean from the disease, her husband actually softened. I’m sure the endless love and patience of his angelic wife played a large role in his ability to remain so pleasant in such a terrible situation.

We love and miss you, Will. Your life was a lesson in great love. May you rest in peace.