Eulogy for Carrie Hunt Bond
By a Daughter,
January 26, 1997
I would like to read from a poem by Emily Dickenson:
"I'll tell you how the sun rose,
a ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amythyst.
The news like squirrels, ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun,
And I said softly to myself,
That must have been the sun."
As the sun rises each day, it marks life's continuing cycle. Carrie Bond, my mother, loved life. She looked forward to each new day with pleasure. I like to think that even on her last day, she awoke to watch for the sun with that same anticipation she always had.
Mother was born 76 years ago, and like most women of her generation, she was defined mainly in reference to her relationships with others:
She was Sid and Nellie's daughter and Sid,Jr.'s sister.
She was Harold's wife.
She was Tom's, Margaret's, Judy's and James' mother.
She was Grandmother and Meemaw.
She was friend and confidant.
She played these roles well, with honor and love. She recognized that our intimate relationships within our family are the most important element of our existence here on earth. She was a most dutiful and caring daughter. She was a loving wife. She was a mother who focused her life upon her children, but did not stifle them by doing so.
Mother appeared at times to be a simple woman, but she was in reality very complex, with an uncanny insight into human nature. She was very intelligent and quick-witted, although her lack of formal education may have obscured that fact from those who did not know her well. She was adventurous and loved to travel and do new things and see new people and places.
She was a strong and independent woman, feisty, tenacious, stubborn, and, at times, exasperating. She was sweet, kind, and generous. To me, she was the best and only mother I ever wanted, and I shall miss her on every day that the sun rises for the rest of my life.
I would like to think that her last day ended somewhat like the sun setting in Emily Dickenson's poem:
"But, how the sun set,
I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while.
Then, at last, a dominee in gray,
Put gently up the evening bars
And led the flock away."
By a Daughter,
January 26, 1997
I would like to read from a poem by Emily Dickenson:
"I'll tell you how the sun rose,
a ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amythyst.
The news like squirrels, ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun,
And I said softly to myself,
That must have been the sun."
As the sun rises each day, it marks life's continuing cycle. Carrie Bond, my mother, loved life. She looked forward to each new day with pleasure. I like to think that even on her last day, she awoke to watch for the sun with that same anticipation she always had.
Mother was born 76 years ago, and like most women of her generation, she was defined mainly in reference to her relationships with others:
She was Sid and Nellie's daughter and Sid,Jr.'s sister.
She was Harold's wife.
She was Tom's, Margaret's, Judy's and James' mother.
She was Grandmother and Meemaw.
She was friend and confidant.
She played these roles well, with honor and love. She recognized that our intimate relationships within our family are the most important element of our existence here on earth. She was a most dutiful and caring daughter. She was a loving wife. She was a mother who focused her life upon her children, but did not stifle them by doing so.
Mother appeared at times to be a simple woman, but she was in reality very complex, with an uncanny insight into human nature. She was very intelligent and quick-witted, although her lack of formal education may have obscured that fact from those who did not know her well. She was adventurous and loved to travel and do new things and see new people and places.
She was a strong and independent woman, feisty, tenacious, stubborn, and, at times, exasperating. She was sweet, kind, and generous. To me, she was the best and only mother I ever wanted, and I shall miss her on every day that the sun rises for the rest of my life.
I would like to think that her last day ended somewhat like the sun setting in Emily Dickenson's poem:
"But, how the sun set,
I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while.
Then, at last, a dominee in gray,
Put gently up the evening bars
And led the flock away."
Eulogy for Carrie Hunt Bond
By a Daughter,
January 26, 1997
I would like to read from a poem by Emily Dickenson:
"I'll tell you how the sun rose,
a ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amythyst.
The news like squirrels, ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun,
And I said softly to myself,
That must have been the sun."
As the sun rises each day, it marks life's continuing cycle. Carrie Bond, my mother, loved life. She looked forward to each new day with pleasure. I like to think that even on her last day, she awoke to watch for the sun with that same anticipation she always had.
Mother was born 76 years ago, and like most women of her generation, she was defined mainly in reference to her relationships with others:
She was Sid and Nellie's daughter and Sid,Jr.'s sister.
She was Harold's wife.
She was Tom's, Margaret's, Judy's and James' mother.
She was Grandmother and Meemaw.
She was friend and confidant.
She played these roles well, with honor and love. She recognized that our intimate relationships within our family are the most important element of our existence here on earth. She was a most dutiful and caring daughter. She was a loving wife. She was a mother who focused her life upon her children, but did not stifle them by doing so.
Mother appeared at times to be a simple woman, but she was in reality very complex, with an uncanny insight into human nature. She was very intelligent and quick-witted, although her lack of formal education may have obscured that fact from those who did not know her well. She was adventurous and loved to travel and do new things and see new people and places.
She was a strong and independent woman, feisty, tenacious, stubborn, and, at times, exasperating. She was sweet, kind, and generous. To me, she was the best and only mother I ever wanted, and I shall miss her on every day that the sun rises for the rest of my life.
I would like to think that her last day ended somewhat like the sun setting in Emily Dickenson's poem:
"But, how the sun set,
I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while.
Then, at last, a dominee in gray,
Put gently up the evening bars
And led the flock away."
By a Daughter,
January 26, 1997
I would like to read from a poem by Emily Dickenson:
"I'll tell you how the sun rose,
a ribbon at a time.
The steeples swam in amythyst.
The news like squirrels, ran.
The hills untied their bonnets,
The bobolinks begun,
And I said softly to myself,
That must have been the sun."
As the sun rises each day, it marks life's continuing cycle. Carrie Bond, my mother, loved life. She looked forward to each new day with pleasure. I like to think that even on her last day, she awoke to watch for the sun with that same anticipation she always had.
Mother was born 76 years ago, and like most women of her generation, she was defined mainly in reference to her relationships with others:
She was Sid and Nellie's daughter and Sid,Jr.'s sister.
She was Harold's wife.
She was Tom's, Margaret's, Judy's and James' mother.
She was Grandmother and Meemaw.
She was friend and confidant.
She played these roles well, with honor and love. She recognized that our intimate relationships within our family are the most important element of our existence here on earth. She was a most dutiful and caring daughter. She was a loving wife. She was a mother who focused her life upon her children, but did not stifle them by doing so.
Mother appeared at times to be a simple woman, but she was in reality very complex, with an uncanny insight into human nature. She was very intelligent and quick-witted, although her lack of formal education may have obscured that fact from those who did not know her well. She was adventurous and loved to travel and do new things and see new people and places.
She was a strong and independent woman, feisty, tenacious, stubborn, and, at times, exasperating. She was sweet, kind, and generous. To me, she was the best and only mother I ever wanted, and I shall miss her on every day that the sun rises for the rest of my life.
I would like to think that her last day ended somewhat like the sun setting in Emily Dickenson's poem:
"But, how the sun set,
I know not.
There seemed a purple stile
Which little yellow boys and girls
Were climbing all the while.
Then, at last, a dominee in gray,
Put gently up the evening bars
And led the flock away."
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