A group text from my mom arrived at 1:16pm on Sunday, June 7, 2026. My sweet grandma had slipped peacefully from her earthly vessel moments before. Mixed emotions flooded my being. Events ranging from early childhood to 16 days prior came rushing forward awaiting acknowledgement, understanding and tender remembering.
Less than one month short of 94 years on this earth. A quiet woman who left a lasting impression on so many.
Grandma and grandpa came as a pair, a set. It is hard to picture one without the other. Memories from my childhood are just that - the unique combination of grandma and grandpa and how their strengths and weaknesses worked together to form a greater whole.
My mind drifted back to younger years with the oldest cousins in the family. I was the 3rd cousin to join the Flowers’ crew, smack dab in the middle of two boys who sandwiched me four months on either side. Billy, Charlie, Maria, Jeremy, Angie, then Richard. We would officially be considered Xennials - those in between years where we were sent outside to play all day without bothering the adults in our lives, but were still young enough to experience computers and the internet in our teen and early adult years.
We climbed the rocks in the yard, swam in the tiny cement pond, rocked back and forth on snarzwamps, jumped on an old school trampoline (breaking a few bones in the process), created a secret club with bare feet in the red dirt under the deck, and tossed dirt clods off the side of the cliff at cars (an act definitely initiated by the XY chromosomes in our crew). When we were a little bit older, we ventured out a bit further scrambling up the Dixie rock with ease, memorizing each step over years of adventuring together.
When we did manage to go in the house, we were welcomed with open arms.
Grandma was the ultimate hostess. I have very few memories of grandma from early days that did not revolve around the kitchen and food. Her tacos were our family’s favorite. When we walked in the house after the long drive from Salt Lake City to St. George, the smell of grandma’s famous taco meat enveloped us. She often cooked our favorite food for the first night, knowing we would be hungry and ready to eat when we arrived. Grandma was excellent at remembering preferences, omitting the green peppers from her original recipe to satisfy our mother’s disdain for bell peppers, which was even stronger than her dislike of cilantro.
Grandma’s kitchen had many unwritten rules. Grandchildren - especially the girls - were expected to help set and clear the table. There was a system that worked magically. Multiple dishes would be moved from the kitchen to the dining room via the bar. Food, condiments, dishes, napkins, silverware and cups were all slid carefully to those ready and waiting on the other side of the bar stools. There we began the process of laying out the contents of a feast fit for a king. I cannot remember a meal where fewer than 10 items were set out to eat. Every. Single. Meal. As a slightly mature woman these days, the mere idea of my grandma’s meals astonishes me. Grandma could feed the masses and loved doing so.
There was also a system for using grandma’s fancy silverware and glasses for special occasions rather than the everyday dinnerware that was used for simpler meals. Grandma had a system and somehow we all learned and followed it. I don’t remember not knowing how things worked. It was just a part of the way meals and gatherings happened.
No matter how many showed up to eat, grandma would find a way to squeeze everyone in. Big parties usually meant multiple card tables, kid-sized picnic tables, and later on, an overflow space in the sun room for extra humans to sit and eat together. I often find myself thinking “I do not have space to host a lot of people in my home.” That was a foreign concept to grandma. Everyone was welcome and there was always a seat for each and every person at the table. Grandpa sat at the head of the table and grandma had her assigned chair as well, strategically placed closest to the kitchen for quick and easy access should anything be needed during dinner.
After the meal, the clearing of the table began. It was simply the reverse order of setting the table. Food and dishes went from the table across the bar and into the kitchen. Although help was appreciated (and even expected), certain chores were grandma’s alone. The grandchildren were allowed to help set and clear the table and put leftovers and condiments back in the fridge. But we were NOT allowed to load dishes. That chore was grandma’s alone. She had a certain way of doing things and did not want anything to mess with her efficiency. I was in my early 40’s before I was brave enough to attempt to load dishes at grandma’s house without being scolded. Even as an adult, I would be swatted away and told that she would take care of the dishes. I think only my sister, Angie, was able to get away with loading dishes a handful of times as an adult. And if you know Angie, you will quickly realize that has more to do with Angie’s charming and convincing nature than grandma’s willingness to allow help with her precious dishes.
No meal was complete at grandma’s house without a delicious dessert. Oftentimes that meant multiple cartons of ice cream laid out before our wide-eyed faces, with every flavor imaginable to satisfy even the most picky in our group. She had her system of scooping and serving down to an exact science. It was most impressive indeed!
Big holidays when cousins from Cedar City and Salt Lake were all there staying at grandma and grandpa’s together meant a huge sleep over for all the grandkids on the blue carpet in the sunken living room space. Charlie slept on the couch as he was the only boy cousin thrown into the mix. The girls all piled next to one another with multiple blankets and pillows on the floor. That was the other thing. Grandma had a system for everything! There were certain drawers for extra linens, blankets, and towels. Random things we didn’t even know existed would magically appear from a closet or a drawer somewhere. The home was grandma’s territory and she maintained it perfectly.
Grandpa would bring home items from garage sales - a passion and exciting pastime of his. Grandma would secretly roll her eyes and wonder where she was going to keep the latest findings of her dear husband. Grandma was a true Cancer sign, with a focus on creating a loving home environment for her family. She fondly kept cards, pictures and other small treasures from her brood strewn throughout her home. There was nothing quite as satisfying as seeing the picture or card you had sent hanging affectionately on the refrigerator or pinned up on her desk somewhere. Stacks and stacks of photobooks filled every shelf in the main area of her home. And yet she was rarely in the pictures that adorned her home. She was the photographer, the cook, and the hostess. Hers was the quiet, behind-the-scenes job that often went unnoticed or unrecognized, but was the glue that held the family together.
Grandma was fair to a fault. She wanted everyone to feel special and loved. With so many grandkids, she created a system for celebrating special occasions. If you lived close or came to visit, your birthday would be celebrated. All the birthdays that month were celebrated together with one delicious cake. On top of the cake were small figurines for each of the grandkids to keep - larger ones for those celebrating birthdays, and smaller ones for everyone else. She wanted everyone to have fun and feel included. Although I’m certain we squabbled about who got which dinosaur or troll that sat on top of the cake, we all understood that we were being treated equally. There was comfort in that gesture that I cannot fully describe. She loved each and every one of us - differently and yet equally.
Speaking of birthdays, I’m not sure there is a family as spoiled and pampered as ours. Even as our family grew with grandchildren marrying and having children, grandma and grandpa continued to send birthday and Christmas cards to every member of the family. Grandma had a calendar to keep track of all the birthdays in the family, and sent a card with a check to each and every person for their birthday every single month. She hand-picked cards with just the right message to send with the check in the mail. I still have most of my cards from grandma in a treasure box in the attic. I would read the words and cry knowing she selected that very message for me - from her heart straight to mine, though 300+ miles apart and in very different life stages and circumstances. Grandma loved her family and showed it in a million different little ways.
Grandma was the most incredible homemaker I can imagine. And then one day she went to work at JC Penney’s. She was amazing at stretching a dollar and knew how to combine sales with her work discount to keep her family in new clothes. I have memories as a teen of visiting JC Penney to see grandma in her professional attire working in the undergarment section of the store. My desire to see my grandma combined with my absolute terror at being seen wandering through aisles of bras and underwear. But the woman absolutely knew what she was doing. I left with perfect fitting bras, nylons I wished I wasn’t required to wear with my dresses and a slip - because every girl needed a proper slip to go under their dress. Grandma was prim and proper in a way I never quite managed. She gave the impression of a woman from an elegant black-and-white movie.
When I was pregnant with my daughter, Marissa, grandma packed me into her white Cadillac (the only vehicle I EVER remember her driving) and drove me down to Penney’s for some new clothes to make me look and feel beautiful. I tried to tell her I was fine, but she insisted. It was her great privilege to give to those she loved in a way only she could.
In a similar fashion, I never saw my grandma without makeup until the very last few years of her life. She would magically appear from her bedroom fully dressed with hair and makeup immaculate to start a ten-course breakfast for whatever crew had come to stay the night. Her skin in her 80s was better than mine in my 40s. She was a true beauty!
For years, my grandma’s bedroom felt like a mysterious cave I wanted to enter, but was rarely allowed. It was off limits for grandkids, and we obeyed with exactness. We were occasionally allowed to cross the threshold to iron our clothes for church using the pull down ironing board that folded neatly into the cupboard on her wall. I remember feeling privileged to be allowed in her bedroom for a brief moment, catching a glimpse of her elegant baby blue bedroom decor and pink bathroom sink, toilet and shower, with her vanity set up just the way she needed.
Grandma was such a supportive wife, but the past several years, I realized just how supportive grandpa was of grandma as well. Her pink bathroom and baby blue bedroom were simple proof of that, as were extra drawers, cupboards and other conveniences grandma wanted or needed that grandpa helped make possible for the love of his life. She tolerated his big blustery personality, and he loved and supported the woman who made his world go round. Though far from perfect, theirs was a true love, a sweet and profound love that never faded.
Grandma took pride in not only her home, but also in her yard. I remember her roses in particular. They were beautiful and brought such joy to her. Her comments about nature were soft and awe-inspiring, but something I noticed regularly. A picture from a botany garden could bring her such joy! She saw and appreciated beauty in so many things. I always thought how fitting it was that she married a man with the last name Flowers. How perfectly perfect for my rose-loving grandmother.
Grandma was up early and worked in the garden before the heat of the day hit. Even into her late 80’s and early 90’s, grandma could be seen out raking leaves on the side of her yard or pulling weeds. It’s no wonder her body was so strong. She was not afraid of hard work.
Grandma not only hosted family, but also welcomed friends with open arms. My BFF, Lisa, spent many nights at grandma and grandpa's bed and breakfast on our way to and from spring break as teens and young adults. Twenty years later, we started taking girls' trips and often found ourselves again in sunny St. George. We stopped to visit, had many laughs, and were fed and given treats to take with us on the road. The last time Lisa and I visited together after grandpa had passed, we decided to include grandma in the fun. Much to her surprise, we invited her along for our wild adventures. We went to a couple different restaurants that week, took grandma to a movie and swung by Swig for a fancy soda. It was SO MUCH FUN!! Lisa was like an adopted granddaughter to grandma. She loved hearing all about the pictures and knickknacks grandma had placed throughout her home. I was so glad my friend had the courage to ask so many questions. I learned so much walking through my grandma's home with grandma telling Lisa so many things about her life. I will cherish these special memories with my grandma and dear friend forever! It was a bit out of grandma's comfort zone to have all the attention on her, but she was delighted to have such a kind and thoughtful visitor who wanted to know about her.
On a somber note, I watched as my sweet grandmother buried her oldest son, Bill, who unexpectedly died from a traumatic brain injury in 2013. She was steadfast and immovable even during times of deep grief and pain. Years later, I watched as she buried her husband, again standing as a pillar of strength to her family. Months later, grandma experienced yet another tragedy when her son, Steve, also experienced a traumatic brain injury, spending several months in hospitals and rehab centers. As an 87 year old, grandma traveled to and from Salt Lake to be there for her boy. The resilience and perseverance I witnessed from grandma in the face of hardship causes me to tremble to this day. The heartbreak of one who lived her entire life for her family was palpable as she laid yet another son in his final resting spot after months of fighting to recover. My dear, sweet grandma.
As a firstborn daughter, I share a special connection with Grandma Mary (who our family fondly called Grandma St. George our entire lives). She was a woman whose name I share - firstborn daughters named after Mary for many generations. Mary Elvira, Mary Ellen, Marilee, Maria, and my daughter, Marissa.
I have had the special privilege of spending extra time with my grandma the past seven months as I helped my mother and aunt care for grandma as her need for round the clock care increased. I was slightly nervous in November when I arrived with my youngest son, Caleb, and received detailed instructions from my mom on the routine for grandma. I knew I could handle it because, although most of my adult years have been as a mother and homeschool teacher, as my good friend often reminds me, “You totally give off nurse vibes.” The Virgo in me is a caregiver and healer by nature so I knew I would be okay helping care for grandma. What I didn’t expect is the beautiful gift the past several months would become for me personally.
The first day I knelt down to help wash grandma’s feet, a rush of compassion, love and understanding overcame me. An image of Christ kneeling at the feet of his apostles appeared in my mind as tears came to my eyes. This was a sacred moment, a holy experience only few would be privileged to receive. After so many years of giving selflessly to the multitudes, now was grandma’s time to receive. My mom and my aunt Carol cared for grandma beautifully. Gary helped with household and yard chores and errands. My sister, Angie, was able to help out with grandma’s care last summer. And I have had the beautiful experience of helping with grandma’s care regularly since November 2025. My daughter, Marissa, was able to come down with Caleb and me in May, just two and half short weeks before her passing. Marissa was there to listen and to smile and comfort grandma while I rested for a bit. Grandma adored Marissa! Grandma reminded me how comfortable she felt conversing with my sweet girl pointing at Marissa and uttering seven simple words, “I want to talk to that one!” Caleb regularly made grandma giggle with his big heart and silly mannerisms. She held his round face in her hands tenderly and kissed his chubby cheeks whenever he stood by her. They are memories I will truly cherish forever.
I will miss my grandma dearly, but I am so happy she is free. I smile as I imagine the rejoicing that took place with loved ones gone before as she crossed from this room into the next. I love you, grandma!
