My beloved mother.
Born on June 25, 1937 in Brookhaven, Mississippi, she went to be with the Lord on October 21, 2020 in Greenville, South Carolina.
What follows is the eulogy written by me and brought by my husband, her son-in-law of nearly forty-two years, for my mother at her funeral, combined with other information contained in her obituary, which I also wrote:
=0=0=0=
During the final days of her life, Ann would often ask what day it actually was. On a recent Sunday, she said: "I wish I could get dressed up and go to church." She's in heaven now but I know she'd be happy that she is, in a sense, dressed up and here in church with all of you.
On one of the recent nights when she was struggling, on what she knew to be her deathbed, Ann told Kay and Jenny that she had something to say. The sisters drew near and heard their mother whisper: "After all the suffering, it is no small matter to graduate with honors." She said more that the girls could not make out, and then as though speaking for an angel in whose presence she longed to be, she said: "I will gladly look up the name … Ann Dykstra."
The first time I met Ann Dykstra — she was Ann Plant then — was in the spring of 1979. I was already engaged to marry her daughter Jennifer, and my own mother had arranged a wedding shower of sorts to take place at our home in Rossford, Ohio, for a few friends and relatives.
Ann arrived in the afternoon, having traveled all day, and was so excited to see Jenny and to meet me and my family, that she stopped her car in the middle of the street, put it in park, jumped out leaving her door wide open, key still in the ignition, and ran up to my parents' front door.
I can't remember who got her car out of Marilyn Road and into the driveway, but my parents had never seen anything quite like Ann Plant. The reason you're laughing is obvious, but it's more obvious to us, because my mom and dad were typical staid midwesterners, and this southerner was putting on a show.
It was a pleasant, sunny day, and my mother had made yeast rolls for dinner. It was her habit to place her pans of rolls on the floor in a small room in the back of the house, in the squares of sunlight that hit the carpet just so, for the rolls' final rising before she popped them into the oven.
While taking Ann on a tour, she went into that room because there was a baby picture of me on the wall, that she wanted to show to Ann.
Only, Ann was looking up at the picture on the wall and never saw the rolls and — you guessed it — she stepped right into one of the pans and mashed a roll or two.
We all laughed, and it still makes for a good story — one which illustrates the exuberance with which Ann met every situation in life. She was always positive, always looking forward. Always looking up instead of down.
For all of her life, she was known by her middle name: Ann.
Ann was the early-summer firstborn child of her parents, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer (1915-1994) and Mary Elizabeth "Liz" Cassidy Sandifer (1918-1981). In 1942, at the age of five, she moved with her parents and siblings from Brookhaven, Mississippi, to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where she lived until her marriage at the age of sixteen.
Growing up in wartime, then post-war, Baton Rouge, Ann became a young woman of unusual beauty. For the entirety of her life she exemplified ladylike wardrobe, grooming, and deportment. Had she lived to be one hundred or beyond, she would have continued to exude godly femininity, never bowing to the trends of androgyny and dishevelment.
In addition to her parents, Ann was predeceased by her brother Sherrill Edwin (Judy) Sandifer, her sister Linda Jean (Don) Greene, brother-in-law Donald Estalee Greene, her beloved aunt Genevieve Harvey, her uncle Harold Harvey, and cousin Darlene Harvey (Wayland) Adams.
She is survived by her devoted husband of 37 years, Henry Dykstra, Jr.; one brother, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer, Jr. (Leslee) of Walker, LA; daughters Kay Elizabeth (Philippe) Garreau of Greenville, SC, Jennifer Lynn (Greg) Weber of Columbia, SC, and Patricia Deann (Mike) Dreyer of McKinney, TX; son Patrick Shawn (Rebecca) Plant of Galveston, TX; stepchildren Rae Ellen Leir of Lenexa, KS; Jane Elizabeth Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Beth Ann Dykstra of Midland, MI; Laura Jean (Stjepan) Dragash of Anderson, IN; and John Eric (Valerie) Dykstra of Elkhart, IN.
Ann was a spectacular cook, a gifted gardener, an avid reader, a talented speaker, a loyal friend, a loving wife, and a steadfast matriarch who enjoyed both the devotion and admiration of her progeny. In every circumstance, whether celebration or crisis, she pointed them to the Lord and to the Word.
Wherever she called home, she created and kept an immaculate, tastefully decorated abode to which she welcomed family and friends alike with a delighted smile.
Always busy with her hands, she was prolific in sewing and needlework, producing dozens of heirloom-quality cross-stitch treasures for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. With her sewing machine, she could -- and did -- make everything from dresses to draperies.
She was the author of a gospel tract entitled From Darkness to Light, containing her testimony and produced by her church.
During Ann's illness, my wife asked her to talk about her childhood and any experiences that stood out in her mind, so that Jenny could record them. They did two sessions, and in the second of those two Ann talked about being under conviction of her sin at the age of thirteen.
She'd attended a church service and recalled that the preaching was powerful. At invitation time, she went forward, in tears. She said that she knew herself to be a dishonest person, who could make up a lie at the drop of a hat. She stood at the front, amongst many other folks who'd also come forward. She wept and she waited.
But no one came to her. No one sat down beside her and opened the Bible. No one asked her what was the matter, or attempted to deal with her soul. Eventually everyone went back to their seats, and Ann went too. She said that she was sure she would have been saved that day, if someone had taken the time to show her the way.
And I'm just going to interject here: God have mercy on people who won't show someone when they want to know how to be saved.
Twenty-one years would elapse before Ann was again confronted with the gospel and with her own lost condition. She called upon the name of the Lord and was saved by grace, thus beginning her forty-nine-year Christian walk on this earth.
Born to travel, she was privileged in her lifetime to see most of the United States and much of the world. She and Henry lived for more than two years in Europe where Ann learned a fair amount of French, with which she often sprinkled her conversation.
Once during the late eighties, when traveling in Germany, Ann and Henry approached Checkpoint Charlie, which was the name given by the Western Allies to the best-known Berlin Wall crossing point between East Berlin and West Berlin during the Cold War.
Ann noticed that there were signs as one approached the checkpoint, directing the allies to check in before crossing the border. She told Henry to pull over and stop, and she went inside the office. She told the person on duty that she was one of the allies and was checking in.
The man tried not to laugh as he asked Ann if she were American military personnel. Well no, she said, but we're the allies! He told her to go back to her car and proceed across the border, and to have a good day.
Ann dedicated herself to chronicling the lives and loves and adventures of herself and her large family by the meticulous keeping of dozens of photo albums. Her devotion to her family was plain to see when one entered Ann and Henry's gracious home and took in the display of framed photos that adorned practically every surface, along with hundreds of books.
The children and grandchildren were and are drawn to the photo albums, and still delight in scanning the pages for pictures of themselves and their siblings at all stages of their lives.
Although she possessed scores of cherished friends, neighbors, family members, and acquaintances of all ages, Ann treasured in a special way the very young and the very old, relating to each age group with joy and sincere interest. As such her spirit was everlastingly young and even in the wisdom and perspective of her ninth decade, she retained an active vigor and a distinctly youthful appearance and attitude. Her eyes always sparkled — often with a hint of mischief — and she never forgot to apply her signature red lipstick.
While Ann appreciated the past and learned from it, she did not live in it. She consistently moved forward for all of her days, buoyed by optimism, faith, cheerfulness, and her own unique brand of winsome vivacity.
From the time of her salvation in the summer of 1971 at the age of thirty-four, under the ministry of the Holy Spirit through His servant, the late Pastor Curtis Hutson of Forrest Hills Baptist Church, Decatur, Georgia, Ann was a dedicated student of the Word of God. Wherever she went for the next forty-nine years, she found a place of service.
Ann was a soul winner and a prayer warrior. She was ever a lady of great humor, charm, and force of personality: both a wit and a witness. Having been forgiven much, she practiced forgiveness. She would be the first to say that she was just a sinner, saved by grace.
She will be deeply and dearly missed by all who knew her, and remembered fondly for as long as they live.
Ann had been affiliated with the Evangelical Institute of Greenville since her days as both a student and a staff member in the early eighties, and was a faithful member of Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville since 2008. For the last 12 years she belonged to the George I. Theisen Family YMCA in Travelers Rest, where she was a constant source of inspiration to her aerobics class.
Also surviving are 24 cherished grandchildren and step-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Elisabeth Ann Garreau (Christopher) Folkerts of Twin Falls, ID; Genevieve Simone Garreau (Damon) Frahler of Greenville, SC; Rebecca Lynn Garreau (Rex) Cabaltica of South Bend, IN; Stephanie Ruth Weber (Joel) Bixler of Lenoir, NC; Michael Emile (Marie) Garreau of Greenville, SC; Audrey Ann Weber of Columbia, SC; Elizabeth Jane Marvin (Joshua) Blevins of Grand Junction, CO; Susanna Kay Garreau of Greenville, SC; Kimberly Sue Marvin (Brock) Guildner of Mead, CO; Erica Jean Weber (Chad) Porter of West Columbia, SC; Kyle Thomas Leir of Lenexa, KS; Nancy Rae Aron of Midland, MI; Marc Henri (Whitney) Garreau of High Level, Alberta, Canada; Andrew Guy (Brittany) Weber of Maryville, TN; Katherine Rae Leir of Lenexa, KS; Susannah Clare Dragash (Bryan) Ball of Bloomington, IN; Joanna Kay Joy Garreau (Jacob) Bernhardt of Cleveland, OH; Aaron Kelly (Maggie) Plant of Galveston, TX; Jamie Dykstra (Keaton) Leszek of North Judson, IN; Kelsey Ann Mikala Plant (Preston) Gann of Galveston, TX; David Todd Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Joshua Dykstra of Elkhart, IN; Hannah Elizabeth Plant of Galveston, TX; Gabriel Anthony Plant of Galveston, TX.
Ann is further survived by 29 precious great-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Anna Elisabeth Folkerts, Melanie Noel Bixler, Priscilla Kay Folkerts, Lydia Kay Cabaltica, Damaris Faith Folkerts, Emilia Ann Cabaltica, Allissa Joy Bixler, Joshua Philippe "JP" Cabaltica, Tobias Emile Garreau, Elizabeth Rose Leir, Jonathan Xavier Cabaltica, Andrew Joel Bixler, Ellender Marie "Ella" Frahler, Joram Scott Garreau, Simon Clark Garreau, Madelyn Grace Folkerts, Clarissa May "Maisie" Frahler, Dagny Clare Weber, Peyton Elsie Guildner, Marcus Henri Garreau, Jr., Kayla Antoinette Garreau, Paul Emile Frahler, Myles Spencer Garreau, Tyler Darcy Pierre Garreau, Frederic James "Freddie" Bernhardt, Ember Rae Weber, Story Kate Garreau, Laura Alice Leir, Madison Isla Guildner.
And she leaves behind many nieces and nephews, and too many friends to count.
=0=0=0=
A memorial service was held at Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, October 29, 2020. Visitation began at 9:30 a.m. and the family greeted friends until the last minute.
Despite tropical storm conditions including horizontal rain and winds gusting at 50 mph, with downed trees dotting the landscape and widespread power outages beginning in the early morning hours and lasting until late that night, many friends and family members attended.
At her specific request, the twelve of Mom's fifteen grandchildren who were able to attend, stood together and sang When They Ring Those Golden Bells.
There was a graveside gathering immediately following the service, at Coleman Memorial Cemetery in Travelers Rest. At my request, my son Andrew sang Zion's Hill.
By that time the day had turned warm and breezy, with a beautiful sky full of fluffy clouds.
Mom would have loved it all.
=0=0=0=
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. ~ Psalm 116:15
=0=0=0=
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheerèd and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay,
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
= William Shakespeare =
=0=0=0=
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
= John O'Donohue =
=0=0=0=
Born on June 25, 1937 in Brookhaven, Mississippi, she went to be with the Lord on October 21, 2020 in Greenville, South Carolina.
What follows is the eulogy written by me and brought by my husband, her son-in-law of nearly forty-two years, for my mother at her funeral, combined with other information contained in her obituary, which I also wrote:
=0=0=0=
During the final days of her life, Ann would often ask what day it actually was. On a recent Sunday, she said: "I wish I could get dressed up and go to church." She's in heaven now but I know she'd be happy that she is, in a sense, dressed up and here in church with all of you.
On one of the recent nights when she was struggling, on what she knew to be her deathbed, Ann told Kay and Jenny that she had something to say. The sisters drew near and heard their mother whisper: "After all the suffering, it is no small matter to graduate with honors." She said more that the girls could not make out, and then as though speaking for an angel in whose presence she longed to be, she said: "I will gladly look up the name … Ann Dykstra."
The first time I met Ann Dykstra — she was Ann Plant then — was in the spring of 1979. I was already engaged to marry her daughter Jennifer, and my own mother had arranged a wedding shower of sorts to take place at our home in Rossford, Ohio, for a few friends and relatives.
Ann arrived in the afternoon, having traveled all day, and was so excited to see Jenny and to meet me and my family, that she stopped her car in the middle of the street, put it in park, jumped out leaving her door wide open, key still in the ignition, and ran up to my parents' front door.
I can't remember who got her car out of Marilyn Road and into the driveway, but my parents had never seen anything quite like Ann Plant. The reason you're laughing is obvious, but it's more obvious to us, because my mom and dad were typical staid midwesterners, and this southerner was putting on a show.
It was a pleasant, sunny day, and my mother had made yeast rolls for dinner. It was her habit to place her pans of rolls on the floor in a small room in the back of the house, in the squares of sunlight that hit the carpet just so, for the rolls' final rising before she popped them into the oven.
While taking Ann on a tour, she went into that room because there was a baby picture of me on the wall, that she wanted to show to Ann.
Only, Ann was looking up at the picture on the wall and never saw the rolls and — you guessed it — she stepped right into one of the pans and mashed a roll or two.
We all laughed, and it still makes for a good story — one which illustrates the exuberance with which Ann met every situation in life. She was always positive, always looking forward. Always looking up instead of down.
For all of her life, she was known by her middle name: Ann.
Ann was the early-summer firstborn child of her parents, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer (1915-1994) and Mary Elizabeth "Liz" Cassidy Sandifer (1918-1981). In 1942, at the age of five, she moved with her parents and siblings from Brookhaven, Mississippi, to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where she lived until her marriage at the age of sixteen.
Growing up in wartime, then post-war, Baton Rouge, Ann became a young woman of unusual beauty. For the entirety of her life she exemplified ladylike wardrobe, grooming, and deportment. Had she lived to be one hundred or beyond, she would have continued to exude godly femininity, never bowing to the trends of androgyny and dishevelment.
In addition to her parents, Ann was predeceased by her brother Sherrill Edwin (Judy) Sandifer, her sister Linda Jean (Don) Greene, brother-in-law Donald Estalee Greene, her beloved aunt Genevieve Harvey, her uncle Harold Harvey, and cousin Darlene Harvey (Wayland) Adams.
She is survived by her devoted husband of 37 years, Henry Dykstra, Jr.; one brother, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer, Jr. (Leslee) of Walker, LA; daughters Kay Elizabeth (Philippe) Garreau of Greenville, SC, Jennifer Lynn (Greg) Weber of Columbia, SC, and Patricia Deann (Mike) Dreyer of McKinney, TX; son Patrick Shawn (Rebecca) Plant of Galveston, TX; stepchildren Rae Ellen Leir of Lenexa, KS; Jane Elizabeth Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Beth Ann Dykstra of Midland, MI; Laura Jean (Stjepan) Dragash of Anderson, IN; and John Eric (Valerie) Dykstra of Elkhart, IN.
Ann was a spectacular cook, a gifted gardener, an avid reader, a talented speaker, a loyal friend, a loving wife, and a steadfast matriarch who enjoyed both the devotion and admiration of her progeny. In every circumstance, whether celebration or crisis, she pointed them to the Lord and to the Word.
Wherever she called home, she created and kept an immaculate, tastefully decorated abode to which she welcomed family and friends alike with a delighted smile.
Always busy with her hands, she was prolific in sewing and needlework, producing dozens of heirloom-quality cross-stitch treasures for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. With her sewing machine, she could -- and did -- make everything from dresses to draperies.
She was the author of a gospel tract entitled From Darkness to Light, containing her testimony and produced by her church.
During Ann's illness, my wife asked her to talk about her childhood and any experiences that stood out in her mind, so that Jenny could record them. They did two sessions, and in the second of those two Ann talked about being under conviction of her sin at the age of thirteen.
She'd attended a church service and recalled that the preaching was powerful. At invitation time, she went forward, in tears. She said that she knew herself to be a dishonest person, who could make up a lie at the drop of a hat. She stood at the front, amongst many other folks who'd also come forward. She wept and she waited.
But no one came to her. No one sat down beside her and opened the Bible. No one asked her what was the matter, or attempted to deal with her soul. Eventually everyone went back to their seats, and Ann went too. She said that she was sure she would have been saved that day, if someone had taken the time to show her the way.
And I'm just going to interject here: God have mercy on people who won't show someone when they want to know how to be saved.
Twenty-one years would elapse before Ann was again confronted with the gospel and with her own lost condition. She called upon the name of the Lord and was saved by grace, thus beginning her forty-nine-year Christian walk on this earth.
Born to travel, she was privileged in her lifetime to see most of the United States and much of the world. She and Henry lived for more than two years in Europe where Ann learned a fair amount of French, with which she often sprinkled her conversation.
Once during the late eighties, when traveling in Germany, Ann and Henry approached Checkpoint Charlie, which was the name given by the Western Allies to the best-known Berlin Wall crossing point between East Berlin and West Berlin during the Cold War.
Ann noticed that there were signs as one approached the checkpoint, directing the allies to check in before crossing the border. She told Henry to pull over and stop, and she went inside the office. She told the person on duty that she was one of the allies and was checking in.
The man tried not to laugh as he asked Ann if she were American military personnel. Well no, she said, but we're the allies! He told her to go back to her car and proceed across the border, and to have a good day.
Ann dedicated herself to chronicling the lives and loves and adventures of herself and her large family by the meticulous keeping of dozens of photo albums. Her devotion to her family was plain to see when one entered Ann and Henry's gracious home and took in the display of framed photos that adorned practically every surface, along with hundreds of books.
The children and grandchildren were and are drawn to the photo albums, and still delight in scanning the pages for pictures of themselves and their siblings at all stages of their lives.
Although she possessed scores of cherished friends, neighbors, family members, and acquaintances of all ages, Ann treasured in a special way the very young and the very old, relating to each age group with joy and sincere interest. As such her spirit was everlastingly young and even in the wisdom and perspective of her ninth decade, she retained an active vigor and a distinctly youthful appearance and attitude. Her eyes always sparkled — often with a hint of mischief — and she never forgot to apply her signature red lipstick.
While Ann appreciated the past and learned from it, she did not live in it. She consistently moved forward for all of her days, buoyed by optimism, faith, cheerfulness, and her own unique brand of winsome vivacity.
From the time of her salvation in the summer of 1971 at the age of thirty-four, under the ministry of the Holy Spirit through His servant, the late Pastor Curtis Hutson of Forrest Hills Baptist Church, Decatur, Georgia, Ann was a dedicated student of the Word of God. Wherever she went for the next forty-nine years, she found a place of service.
Ann was a soul winner and a prayer warrior. She was ever a lady of great humor, charm, and force of personality: both a wit and a witness. Having been forgiven much, she practiced forgiveness. She would be the first to say that she was just a sinner, saved by grace.
She will be deeply and dearly missed by all who knew her, and remembered fondly for as long as they live.
Ann had been affiliated with the Evangelical Institute of Greenville since her days as both a student and a staff member in the early eighties, and was a faithful member of Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville since 2008. For the last 12 years she belonged to the George I. Theisen Family YMCA in Travelers Rest, where she was a constant source of inspiration to her aerobics class.
Also surviving are 24 cherished grandchildren and step-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Elisabeth Ann Garreau (Christopher) Folkerts of Twin Falls, ID; Genevieve Simone Garreau (Damon) Frahler of Greenville, SC; Rebecca Lynn Garreau (Rex) Cabaltica of South Bend, IN; Stephanie Ruth Weber (Joel) Bixler of Lenoir, NC; Michael Emile (Marie) Garreau of Greenville, SC; Audrey Ann Weber of Columbia, SC; Elizabeth Jane Marvin (Joshua) Blevins of Grand Junction, CO; Susanna Kay Garreau of Greenville, SC; Kimberly Sue Marvin (Brock) Guildner of Mead, CO; Erica Jean Weber (Chad) Porter of West Columbia, SC; Kyle Thomas Leir of Lenexa, KS; Nancy Rae Aron of Midland, MI; Marc Henri (Whitney) Garreau of High Level, Alberta, Canada; Andrew Guy (Brittany) Weber of Maryville, TN; Katherine Rae Leir of Lenexa, KS; Susannah Clare Dragash (Bryan) Ball of Bloomington, IN; Joanna Kay Joy Garreau (Jacob) Bernhardt of Cleveland, OH; Aaron Kelly (Maggie) Plant of Galveston, TX; Jamie Dykstra (Keaton) Leszek of North Judson, IN; Kelsey Ann Mikala Plant (Preston) Gann of Galveston, TX; David Todd Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Joshua Dykstra of Elkhart, IN; Hannah Elizabeth Plant of Galveston, TX; Gabriel Anthony Plant of Galveston, TX.
Ann is further survived by 29 precious great-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Anna Elisabeth Folkerts, Melanie Noel Bixler, Priscilla Kay Folkerts, Lydia Kay Cabaltica, Damaris Faith Folkerts, Emilia Ann Cabaltica, Allissa Joy Bixler, Joshua Philippe "JP" Cabaltica, Tobias Emile Garreau, Elizabeth Rose Leir, Jonathan Xavier Cabaltica, Andrew Joel Bixler, Ellender Marie "Ella" Frahler, Joram Scott Garreau, Simon Clark Garreau, Madelyn Grace Folkerts, Clarissa May "Maisie" Frahler, Dagny Clare Weber, Peyton Elsie Guildner, Marcus Henri Garreau, Jr., Kayla Antoinette Garreau, Paul Emile Frahler, Myles Spencer Garreau, Tyler Darcy Pierre Garreau, Frederic James "Freddie" Bernhardt, Ember Rae Weber, Story Kate Garreau, Laura Alice Leir, Madison Isla Guildner.
And she leaves behind many nieces and nephews, and too many friends to count.
=0=0=0=
A memorial service was held at Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, October 29, 2020. Visitation began at 9:30 a.m. and the family greeted friends until the last minute.
Despite tropical storm conditions including horizontal rain and winds gusting at 50 mph, with downed trees dotting the landscape and widespread power outages beginning in the early morning hours and lasting until late that night, many friends and family members attended.
At her specific request, the twelve of Mom's fifteen grandchildren who were able to attend, stood together and sang When They Ring Those Golden Bells.
There was a graveside gathering immediately following the service, at Coleman Memorial Cemetery in Travelers Rest. At my request, my son Andrew sang Zion's Hill.
By that time the day had turned warm and breezy, with a beautiful sky full of fluffy clouds.
Mom would have loved it all.
=0=0=0=
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. ~ Psalm 116:15
=0=0=0=
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheerèd and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay,
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
= William Shakespeare =
=0=0=0=
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
= John O'Donohue =
=0=0=0=
My beloved mother.
Born on June 25, 1937 in Brookhaven, Mississippi, she went to be with the Lord on October 21, 2020 in Greenville, South Carolina.
What follows is the eulogy written by me and brought by my husband, her son-in-law of nearly forty-two years, for my mother at her funeral, combined with other information contained in her obituary, which I also wrote:
=0=0=0=
During the final days of her life, Ann would often ask what day it actually was. On a recent Sunday, she said: "I wish I could get dressed up and go to church." She's in heaven now but I know she'd be happy that she is, in a sense, dressed up and here in church with all of you.
On one of the recent nights when she was struggling, on what she knew to be her deathbed, Ann told Kay and Jenny that she had something to say. The sisters drew near and heard their mother whisper: "After all the suffering, it is no small matter to graduate with honors." She said more that the girls could not make out, and then as though speaking for an angel in whose presence she longed to be, she said: "I will gladly look up the name … Ann Dykstra."
The first time I met Ann Dykstra — she was Ann Plant then — was in the spring of 1979. I was already engaged to marry her daughter Jennifer, and my own mother had arranged a wedding shower of sorts to take place at our home in Rossford, Ohio, for a few friends and relatives.
Ann arrived in the afternoon, having traveled all day, and was so excited to see Jenny and to meet me and my family, that she stopped her car in the middle of the street, put it in park, jumped out leaving her door wide open, key still in the ignition, and ran up to my parents' front door.
I can't remember who got her car out of Marilyn Road and into the driveway, but my parents had never seen anything quite like Ann Plant. The reason you're laughing is obvious, but it's more obvious to us, because my mom and dad were typical staid midwesterners, and this southerner was putting on a show.
It was a pleasant, sunny day, and my mother had made yeast rolls for dinner. It was her habit to place her pans of rolls on the floor in a small room in the back of the house, in the squares of sunlight that hit the carpet just so, for the rolls' final rising before she popped them into the oven.
While taking Ann on a tour, she went into that room because there was a baby picture of me on the wall, that she wanted to show to Ann.
Only, Ann was looking up at the picture on the wall and never saw the rolls and — you guessed it — she stepped right into one of the pans and mashed a roll or two.
We all laughed, and it still makes for a good story — one which illustrates the exuberance with which Ann met every situation in life. She was always positive, always looking forward. Always looking up instead of down.
For all of her life, she was known by her middle name: Ann.
Ann was the early-summer firstborn child of her parents, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer (1915-1994) and Mary Elizabeth "Liz" Cassidy Sandifer (1918-1981). In 1942, at the age of five, she moved with her parents and siblings from Brookhaven, Mississippi, to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where she lived until her marriage at the age of sixteen.
Growing up in wartime, then post-war, Baton Rouge, Ann became a young woman of unusual beauty. For the entirety of her life she exemplified ladylike wardrobe, grooming, and deportment. Had she lived to be one hundred or beyond, she would have continued to exude godly femininity, never bowing to the trends of androgyny and dishevelment.
In addition to her parents, Ann was predeceased by her brother Sherrill Edwin (Judy) Sandifer, her sister Linda Jean (Don) Greene, brother-in-law Donald Estalee Greene, her beloved aunt Genevieve Harvey, her uncle Harold Harvey, and cousin Darlene Harvey (Wayland) Adams.
She is survived by her devoted husband of 37 years, Henry Dykstra, Jr.; one brother, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer, Jr. (Leslee) of Walker, LA; daughters Kay Elizabeth (Philippe) Garreau of Greenville, SC, Jennifer Lynn (Greg) Weber of Columbia, SC, and Patricia Deann (Mike) Dreyer of McKinney, TX; son Patrick Shawn (Rebecca) Plant of Galveston, TX; stepchildren Rae Ellen Leir of Lenexa, KS; Jane Elizabeth Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Beth Ann Dykstra of Midland, MI; Laura Jean (Stjepan) Dragash of Anderson, IN; and John Eric (Valerie) Dykstra of Elkhart, IN.
Ann was a spectacular cook, a gifted gardener, an avid reader, a talented speaker, a loyal friend, a loving wife, and a steadfast matriarch who enjoyed both the devotion and admiration of her progeny. In every circumstance, whether celebration or crisis, she pointed them to the Lord and to the Word.
Wherever she called home, she created and kept an immaculate, tastefully decorated abode to which she welcomed family and friends alike with a delighted smile.
Always busy with her hands, she was prolific in sewing and needlework, producing dozens of heirloom-quality cross-stitch treasures for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. With her sewing machine, she could -- and did -- make everything from dresses to draperies.
She was the author of a gospel tract entitled From Darkness to Light, containing her testimony and produced by her church.
During Ann's illness, my wife asked her to talk about her childhood and any experiences that stood out in her mind, so that Jenny could record them. They did two sessions, and in the second of those two Ann talked about being under conviction of her sin at the age of thirteen.
She'd attended a church service and recalled that the preaching was powerful. At invitation time, she went forward, in tears. She said that she knew herself to be a dishonest person, who could make up a lie at the drop of a hat. She stood at the front, amongst many other folks who'd also come forward. She wept and she waited.
But no one came to her. No one sat down beside her and opened the Bible. No one asked her what was the matter, or attempted to deal with her soul. Eventually everyone went back to their seats, and Ann went too. She said that she was sure she would have been saved that day, if someone had taken the time to show her the way.
And I'm just going to interject here: God have mercy on people who won't show someone when they want to know how to be saved.
Twenty-one years would elapse before Ann was again confronted with the gospel and with her own lost condition. She called upon the name of the Lord and was saved by grace, thus beginning her forty-nine-year Christian walk on this earth.
Born to travel, she was privileged in her lifetime to see most of the United States and much of the world. She and Henry lived for more than two years in Europe where Ann learned a fair amount of French, with which she often sprinkled her conversation.
Once during the late eighties, when traveling in Germany, Ann and Henry approached Checkpoint Charlie, which was the name given by the Western Allies to the best-known Berlin Wall crossing point between East Berlin and West Berlin during the Cold War.
Ann noticed that there were signs as one approached the checkpoint, directing the allies to check in before crossing the border. She told Henry to pull over and stop, and she went inside the office. She told the person on duty that she was one of the allies and was checking in.
The man tried not to laugh as he asked Ann if she were American military personnel. Well no, she said, but we're the allies! He told her to go back to her car and proceed across the border, and to have a good day.
Ann dedicated herself to chronicling the lives and loves and adventures of herself and her large family by the meticulous keeping of dozens of photo albums. Her devotion to her family was plain to see when one entered Ann and Henry's gracious home and took in the display of framed photos that adorned practically every surface, along with hundreds of books.
The children and grandchildren were and are drawn to the photo albums, and still delight in scanning the pages for pictures of themselves and their siblings at all stages of their lives.
Although she possessed scores of cherished friends, neighbors, family members, and acquaintances of all ages, Ann treasured in a special way the very young and the very old, relating to each age group with joy and sincere interest. As such her spirit was everlastingly young and even in the wisdom and perspective of her ninth decade, she retained an active vigor and a distinctly youthful appearance and attitude. Her eyes always sparkled — often with a hint of mischief — and she never forgot to apply her signature red lipstick.
While Ann appreciated the past and learned from it, she did not live in it. She consistently moved forward for all of her days, buoyed by optimism, faith, cheerfulness, and her own unique brand of winsome vivacity.
From the time of her salvation in the summer of 1971 at the age of thirty-four, under the ministry of the Holy Spirit through His servant, the late Pastor Curtis Hutson of Forrest Hills Baptist Church, Decatur, Georgia, Ann was a dedicated student of the Word of God. Wherever she went for the next forty-nine years, she found a place of service.
Ann was a soul winner and a prayer warrior. She was ever a lady of great humor, charm, and force of personality: both a wit and a witness. Having been forgiven much, she practiced forgiveness. She would be the first to say that she was just a sinner, saved by grace.
She will be deeply and dearly missed by all who knew her, and remembered fondly for as long as they live.
Ann had been affiliated with the Evangelical Institute of Greenville since her days as both a student and a staff member in the early eighties, and was a faithful member of Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville since 2008. For the last 12 years she belonged to the George I. Theisen Family YMCA in Travelers Rest, where she was a constant source of inspiration to her aerobics class.
Also surviving are 24 cherished grandchildren and step-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Elisabeth Ann Garreau (Christopher) Folkerts of Twin Falls, ID; Genevieve Simone Garreau (Damon) Frahler of Greenville, SC; Rebecca Lynn Garreau (Rex) Cabaltica of South Bend, IN; Stephanie Ruth Weber (Joel) Bixler of Lenoir, NC; Michael Emile (Marie) Garreau of Greenville, SC; Audrey Ann Weber of Columbia, SC; Elizabeth Jane Marvin (Joshua) Blevins of Grand Junction, CO; Susanna Kay Garreau of Greenville, SC; Kimberly Sue Marvin (Brock) Guildner of Mead, CO; Erica Jean Weber (Chad) Porter of West Columbia, SC; Kyle Thomas Leir of Lenexa, KS; Nancy Rae Aron of Midland, MI; Marc Henri (Whitney) Garreau of High Level, Alberta, Canada; Andrew Guy (Brittany) Weber of Maryville, TN; Katherine Rae Leir of Lenexa, KS; Susannah Clare Dragash (Bryan) Ball of Bloomington, IN; Joanna Kay Joy Garreau (Jacob) Bernhardt of Cleveland, OH; Aaron Kelly (Maggie) Plant of Galveston, TX; Jamie Dykstra (Keaton) Leszek of North Judson, IN; Kelsey Ann Mikala Plant (Preston) Gann of Galveston, TX; David Todd Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Joshua Dykstra of Elkhart, IN; Hannah Elizabeth Plant of Galveston, TX; Gabriel Anthony Plant of Galveston, TX.
Ann is further survived by 29 precious great-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Anna Elisabeth Folkerts, Melanie Noel Bixler, Priscilla Kay Folkerts, Lydia Kay Cabaltica, Damaris Faith Folkerts, Emilia Ann Cabaltica, Allissa Joy Bixler, Joshua Philippe "JP" Cabaltica, Tobias Emile Garreau, Elizabeth Rose Leir, Jonathan Xavier Cabaltica, Andrew Joel Bixler, Ellender Marie "Ella" Frahler, Joram Scott Garreau, Simon Clark Garreau, Madelyn Grace Folkerts, Clarissa May "Maisie" Frahler, Dagny Clare Weber, Peyton Elsie Guildner, Marcus Henri Garreau, Jr., Kayla Antoinette Garreau, Paul Emile Frahler, Myles Spencer Garreau, Tyler Darcy Pierre Garreau, Frederic James "Freddie" Bernhardt, Ember Rae Weber, Story Kate Garreau, Laura Alice Leir, Madison Isla Guildner.
And she leaves behind many nieces and nephews, and too many friends to count.
=0=0=0=
A memorial service was held at Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, October 29, 2020. Visitation began at 9:30 a.m. and the family greeted friends until the last minute.
Despite tropical storm conditions including horizontal rain and winds gusting at 50 mph, with downed trees dotting the landscape and widespread power outages beginning in the early morning hours and lasting until late that night, many friends and family members attended.
At her specific request, the twelve of Mom's fifteen grandchildren who were able to attend, stood together and sang When They Ring Those Golden Bells.
There was a graveside gathering immediately following the service, at Coleman Memorial Cemetery in Travelers Rest. At my request, my son Andrew sang Zion's Hill.
By that time the day had turned warm and breezy, with a beautiful sky full of fluffy clouds.
Mom would have loved it all.
=0=0=0=
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. ~ Psalm 116:15
=0=0=0=
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheerèd and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay,
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
= William Shakespeare =
=0=0=0=
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
= John O'Donohue =
=0=0=0=
Born on June 25, 1937 in Brookhaven, Mississippi, she went to be with the Lord on October 21, 2020 in Greenville, South Carolina.
What follows is the eulogy written by me and brought by my husband, her son-in-law of nearly forty-two years, for my mother at her funeral, combined with other information contained in her obituary, which I also wrote:
=0=0=0=
During the final days of her life, Ann would often ask what day it actually was. On a recent Sunday, she said: "I wish I could get dressed up and go to church." She's in heaven now but I know she'd be happy that she is, in a sense, dressed up and here in church with all of you.
On one of the recent nights when she was struggling, on what she knew to be her deathbed, Ann told Kay and Jenny that she had something to say. The sisters drew near and heard their mother whisper: "After all the suffering, it is no small matter to graduate with honors." She said more that the girls could not make out, and then as though speaking for an angel in whose presence she longed to be, she said: "I will gladly look up the name … Ann Dykstra."
The first time I met Ann Dykstra — she was Ann Plant then — was in the spring of 1979. I was already engaged to marry her daughter Jennifer, and my own mother had arranged a wedding shower of sorts to take place at our home in Rossford, Ohio, for a few friends and relatives.
Ann arrived in the afternoon, having traveled all day, and was so excited to see Jenny and to meet me and my family, that she stopped her car in the middle of the street, put it in park, jumped out leaving her door wide open, key still in the ignition, and ran up to my parents' front door.
I can't remember who got her car out of Marilyn Road and into the driveway, but my parents had never seen anything quite like Ann Plant. The reason you're laughing is obvious, but it's more obvious to us, because my mom and dad were typical staid midwesterners, and this southerner was putting on a show.
It was a pleasant, sunny day, and my mother had made yeast rolls for dinner. It was her habit to place her pans of rolls on the floor in a small room in the back of the house, in the squares of sunlight that hit the carpet just so, for the rolls' final rising before she popped them into the oven.
While taking Ann on a tour, she went into that room because there was a baby picture of me on the wall, that she wanted to show to Ann.
Only, Ann was looking up at the picture on the wall and never saw the rolls and — you guessed it — she stepped right into one of the pans and mashed a roll or two.
We all laughed, and it still makes for a good story — one which illustrates the exuberance with which Ann met every situation in life. She was always positive, always looking forward. Always looking up instead of down.
For all of her life, she was known by her middle name: Ann.
Ann was the early-summer firstborn child of her parents, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer (1915-1994) and Mary Elizabeth "Liz" Cassidy Sandifer (1918-1981). In 1942, at the age of five, she moved with her parents and siblings from Brookhaven, Mississippi, to Baton Rouge, Louisiana, where she lived until her marriage at the age of sixteen.
Growing up in wartime, then post-war, Baton Rouge, Ann became a young woman of unusual beauty. For the entirety of her life she exemplified ladylike wardrobe, grooming, and deportment. Had she lived to be one hundred or beyond, she would have continued to exude godly femininity, never bowing to the trends of androgyny and dishevelment.
In addition to her parents, Ann was predeceased by her brother Sherrill Edwin (Judy) Sandifer, her sister Linda Jean (Don) Greene, brother-in-law Donald Estalee Greene, her beloved aunt Genevieve Harvey, her uncle Harold Harvey, and cousin Darlene Harvey (Wayland) Adams.
She is survived by her devoted husband of 37 years, Henry Dykstra, Jr.; one brother, Dorsey Rollins Sandifer, Jr. (Leslee) of Walker, LA; daughters Kay Elizabeth (Philippe) Garreau of Greenville, SC, Jennifer Lynn (Greg) Weber of Columbia, SC, and Patricia Deann (Mike) Dreyer of McKinney, TX; son Patrick Shawn (Rebecca) Plant of Galveston, TX; stepchildren Rae Ellen Leir of Lenexa, KS; Jane Elizabeth Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Beth Ann Dykstra of Midland, MI; Laura Jean (Stjepan) Dragash of Anderson, IN; and John Eric (Valerie) Dykstra of Elkhart, IN.
Ann was a spectacular cook, a gifted gardener, an avid reader, a talented speaker, a loyal friend, a loving wife, and a steadfast matriarch who enjoyed both the devotion and admiration of her progeny. In every circumstance, whether celebration or crisis, she pointed them to the Lord and to the Word.
Wherever she called home, she created and kept an immaculate, tastefully decorated abode to which she welcomed family and friends alike with a delighted smile.
Always busy with her hands, she was prolific in sewing and needlework, producing dozens of heirloom-quality cross-stitch treasures for her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. With her sewing machine, she could -- and did -- make everything from dresses to draperies.
She was the author of a gospel tract entitled From Darkness to Light, containing her testimony and produced by her church.
During Ann's illness, my wife asked her to talk about her childhood and any experiences that stood out in her mind, so that Jenny could record them. They did two sessions, and in the second of those two Ann talked about being under conviction of her sin at the age of thirteen.
She'd attended a church service and recalled that the preaching was powerful. At invitation time, she went forward, in tears. She said that she knew herself to be a dishonest person, who could make up a lie at the drop of a hat. She stood at the front, amongst many other folks who'd also come forward. She wept and she waited.
But no one came to her. No one sat down beside her and opened the Bible. No one asked her what was the matter, or attempted to deal with her soul. Eventually everyone went back to their seats, and Ann went too. She said that she was sure she would have been saved that day, if someone had taken the time to show her the way.
And I'm just going to interject here: God have mercy on people who won't show someone when they want to know how to be saved.
Twenty-one years would elapse before Ann was again confronted with the gospel and with her own lost condition. She called upon the name of the Lord and was saved by grace, thus beginning her forty-nine-year Christian walk on this earth.
Born to travel, she was privileged in her lifetime to see most of the United States and much of the world. She and Henry lived for more than two years in Europe where Ann learned a fair amount of French, with which she often sprinkled her conversation.
Once during the late eighties, when traveling in Germany, Ann and Henry approached Checkpoint Charlie, which was the name given by the Western Allies to the best-known Berlin Wall crossing point between East Berlin and West Berlin during the Cold War.
Ann noticed that there were signs as one approached the checkpoint, directing the allies to check in before crossing the border. She told Henry to pull over and stop, and she went inside the office. She told the person on duty that she was one of the allies and was checking in.
The man tried not to laugh as he asked Ann if she were American military personnel. Well no, she said, but we're the allies! He told her to go back to her car and proceed across the border, and to have a good day.
Ann dedicated herself to chronicling the lives and loves and adventures of herself and her large family by the meticulous keeping of dozens of photo albums. Her devotion to her family was plain to see when one entered Ann and Henry's gracious home and took in the display of framed photos that adorned practically every surface, along with hundreds of books.
The children and grandchildren were and are drawn to the photo albums, and still delight in scanning the pages for pictures of themselves and their siblings at all stages of their lives.
Although she possessed scores of cherished friends, neighbors, family members, and acquaintances of all ages, Ann treasured in a special way the very young and the very old, relating to each age group with joy and sincere interest. As such her spirit was everlastingly young and even in the wisdom and perspective of her ninth decade, she retained an active vigor and a distinctly youthful appearance and attitude. Her eyes always sparkled — often with a hint of mischief — and she never forgot to apply her signature red lipstick.
While Ann appreciated the past and learned from it, she did not live in it. She consistently moved forward for all of her days, buoyed by optimism, faith, cheerfulness, and her own unique brand of winsome vivacity.
From the time of her salvation in the summer of 1971 at the age of thirty-four, under the ministry of the Holy Spirit through His servant, the late Pastor Curtis Hutson of Forrest Hills Baptist Church, Decatur, Georgia, Ann was a dedicated student of the Word of God. Wherever she went for the next forty-nine years, she found a place of service.
Ann was a soul winner and a prayer warrior. She was ever a lady of great humor, charm, and force of personality: both a wit and a witness. Having been forgiven much, she practiced forgiveness. She would be the first to say that she was just a sinner, saved by grace.
She will be deeply and dearly missed by all who knew her, and remembered fondly for as long as they live.
Ann had been affiliated with the Evangelical Institute of Greenville since her days as both a student and a staff member in the early eighties, and was a faithful member of Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville since 2008. For the last 12 years she belonged to the George I. Theisen Family YMCA in Travelers Rest, where she was a constant source of inspiration to her aerobics class.
Also surviving are 24 cherished grandchildren and step-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Elisabeth Ann Garreau (Christopher) Folkerts of Twin Falls, ID; Genevieve Simone Garreau (Damon) Frahler of Greenville, SC; Rebecca Lynn Garreau (Rex) Cabaltica of South Bend, IN; Stephanie Ruth Weber (Joel) Bixler of Lenoir, NC; Michael Emile (Marie) Garreau of Greenville, SC; Audrey Ann Weber of Columbia, SC; Elizabeth Jane Marvin (Joshua) Blevins of Grand Junction, CO; Susanna Kay Garreau of Greenville, SC; Kimberly Sue Marvin (Brock) Guildner of Mead, CO; Erica Jean Weber (Chad) Porter of West Columbia, SC; Kyle Thomas Leir of Lenexa, KS; Nancy Rae Aron of Midland, MI; Marc Henri (Whitney) Garreau of High Level, Alberta, Canada; Andrew Guy (Brittany) Weber of Maryville, TN; Katherine Rae Leir of Lenexa, KS; Susannah Clare Dragash (Bryan) Ball of Bloomington, IN; Joanna Kay Joy Garreau (Jacob) Bernhardt of Cleveland, OH; Aaron Kelly (Maggie) Plant of Galveston, TX; Jamie Dykstra (Keaton) Leszek of North Judson, IN; Kelsey Ann Mikala Plant (Preston) Gann of Galveston, TX; David Todd Flannigan of Woodland Park, CO; Joshua Dykstra of Elkhart, IN; Hannah Elizabeth Plant of Galveston, TX; Gabriel Anthony Plant of Galveston, TX.
Ann is further survived by 29 precious great-grandchildren, listed in order of their birth:
Anna Elisabeth Folkerts, Melanie Noel Bixler, Priscilla Kay Folkerts, Lydia Kay Cabaltica, Damaris Faith Folkerts, Emilia Ann Cabaltica, Allissa Joy Bixler, Joshua Philippe "JP" Cabaltica, Tobias Emile Garreau, Elizabeth Rose Leir, Jonathan Xavier Cabaltica, Andrew Joel Bixler, Ellender Marie "Ella" Frahler, Joram Scott Garreau, Simon Clark Garreau, Madelyn Grace Folkerts, Clarissa May "Maisie" Frahler, Dagny Clare Weber, Peyton Elsie Guildner, Marcus Henri Garreau, Jr., Kayla Antoinette Garreau, Paul Emile Frahler, Myles Spencer Garreau, Tyler Darcy Pierre Garreau, Frederic James "Freddie" Bernhardt, Ember Rae Weber, Story Kate Garreau, Laura Alice Leir, Madison Isla Guildner.
And she leaves behind many nieces and nephews, and too many friends to count.
=0=0=0=
A memorial service was held at Mount Calvary Baptist Church in Greenville at 11:00 a.m. on Thursday, October 29, 2020. Visitation began at 9:30 a.m. and the family greeted friends until the last minute.
Despite tropical storm conditions including horizontal rain and winds gusting at 50 mph, with downed trees dotting the landscape and widespread power outages beginning in the early morning hours and lasting until late that night, many friends and family members attended.
At her specific request, the twelve of Mom's fifteen grandchildren who were able to attend, stood together and sang When They Ring Those Golden Bells.
There was a graveside gathering immediately following the service, at Coleman Memorial Cemetery in Travelers Rest. At my request, my son Andrew sang Zion's Hill.
By that time the day had turned warm and breezy, with a beautiful sky full of fluffy clouds.
Mom would have loved it all.
=0=0=0=
Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints. ~ Psalm 116:15
=0=0=0=
When I consider every thing that grows
Holds in perfection but a little moment.
That this huge stage presenteth nought but shows
Whereon the stars in secret influence comment.
When I perceive that men as plants increase,
Cheerèd and checked even by the self-same sky,
Vaunt in their youthful sap, at height decrease,
And wear their brave state out of memory;
Then the conceit of this inconstant stay,
Sets you most rich in youth before my sight,
Where wasteful Time debateth with decay
To change your day of youth to sullied night;
And all in war with Time for love of you,
As he takes from you, I engraft you new.
= William Shakespeare =
=0=0=0=
Though we need to weep your loss,
You dwell in that safe place in our hearts,
Where no storm or night or pain can reach you.
Your love was like the dawn
Brightening over our lives
Awakening beneath the dark
A further adventure of colour.
The sound of your voice
Found for us
A new music
That brightened everything.
Whatever you enfolded in your gaze
Quickened in the joy of its being;
You placed smiles like flowers
On the altar of the heart.
Your mind always sparkled
With wonder at things.
Though your days here were brief,
Your spirit was live, awake, complete.
We look towards each other no longer
From the old distance of our names;
Now you dwell inside the rhythm of breath,
As close to us as we are to ourselves.
Though we cannot see you with outward eyes,
We know our soul's gaze is upon your face,
Smiling back at us from within everything
To which we bring our best refinement.
Let us not look for you only in memory,
Where we would grow lonely without you.
You would want us to find you in presence,
Beside us when beauty brightens,
When kindness glows
And music echoes eternal tones.
When orchids brighten the earth,
Darkest winter has turned to spring;
May this dark grief flower with hope
In every heart that loves you.
May you continue to inspire us:
To enter each day with a generous heart.
To serve the call of courage and love
Until we see your beautiful face again
In that land where there is no more separation,
Where all tears will be wiped from our mind,
And where we will never lose you again.
= John O'Donohue =
=0=0=0=
Inscription
Forgiven Forever
Gravesite Details
If you find yourself at Coleman Cemetery, drive towards the wooden gate that is closed to traffic, just beyond which is the stone sign proclaiming that you are indeed in Coleman Cemetery. Walk a few steps beyond that sign and there you will find Mom.
