There’s no easy way to start this next series of blogs. I’ve struggled with the words, but none seem to work. Ruth was involved in a car accident last Tuesday evening and she died. This is the first time I’ve used the word. It’s too final.
If you’ve read her obituary, you may think I wrote it. I didn’t. Michael’s wife, Kate, did. I tweaked a personal message she sent me. The only thing I added was a few words about Kate. David, Elizabeth, Michael and I discussed Ruth’s obituary and as Elizabeth said, “It needs to be spicey.” When I read Kate’s text, we had the words.
The kids and I have received a number of calls and texts offering words of support. They’re welcome and helpful. It’s good to know others loved Ruth like us. How could you not.
Some have said, “We’re sorry for your loss.” While I believe their words are sincere, people also want to know what happened. We’re a curious breed.
Ruth was driving home from Mt. Pleasant when she had a “medical emergency”. That’s what the two State Police officers said when they rang the doorbell. I already knew something was wrong as she was late, and she was never late. I was told she’d loss consciousness, veered off the road, and hit a parked car. Medical personnel tried to revive her, but their efforts failed, and she was pronounced dead at the scene. By the time they found me, Ruth had been taken to the medical examiner’s office at Sparrow Hospital in Lansing.
That’s all I knew when I called the kids. David, then Michael, and finally, Elizabeth. I did my best to hold it together through each call. I lost it while speaking with Elizabeth. “Now that I’ve told you, Elizabeth, I can cry.”
I used the word “gone” in each conversation. “Your mom’s gone”. “Gone” was easier than dead. “Gone” gave me hope.
When I started this blog five years ago, I wanted my grandchildren to have a written record of their extended family. I had listened to stories in my youth, remembered many, and wanted them to live on. Not all stories have happy endings. While Ruth’s life is over, her legacy will live on through her children and grandchildren and I’ll do my best to honor her memory.
There’ve been many times when I’ve written and asked her to review before I hit “publish”. Several times she said, “You can’t write that. It’s too controversial.” or “That word’s too raw, you’ve got to change it.” Most of the time I’d rethink my idea and follow her suggestion. Now that I don’t have her to be my censor, I apologize in advance if I offend you. That’s not my intent. I have strong feelings about a lot of things, and I don’t always censor myself as she thought I should.
I’ve had dozens of conversations on the phone the past week. There have been two occasions when I was about to say something unkind about someone and the call dropped. I could still hear the caller, but they couldn’t hear me. There’s no doubt in my mind that she was intervening.
My next several posts will be about Ruth. Writing is my therapy. If you don’t already, I hope you learn to love her as I do. You can’t get enough of a good thing.
Ruth Elaine Tebo Obituary – Visitation & Funeral Information (tributecenteronline.com)
I have no words of wisdom for you, but your words say it all. Every picture and word you’ve shared and the love you’ve shown tells it all. Ruth was one in a million and loved ALL well. And in return she has left a legacy. My heart is broken for you.
Sunday afternoon, I looked around my house and thought I needed to talk to Ruth about updating our look. An hour later, I received a text telling me Ruth had passed away. Bob, I am so sorry. She was an amazing woman who married an amazing man. What a dynamic duo you have always been! I value the time Ruth spent at 4208 Monticello Dr helping us make our house a home. I can look at every room in my house and have a memory of Ruth which puts a smile on my face. I cannot imagine your grief but do understand the treasure of memories you have. My best to you, dear friend.
Bob,
Your photos of Ruth through the years were wonderful. I feel they show a life well lived. As long as there are people who remember her, she will go on.
Hugs from Hopkins.
Carolyn Dixon