This is the second in a series of three posts written by my son, Caegan. In case you missed it last week, he was encouraged by his younger brother, Cam, to “write things out” and this is the result. It is my absolute pleasure to share these words written by one of my favorite humans about another of my favorite humans. Love you all mighty much. -Ronda
The Library of Congress acknowledges The Wizard of Oz as the most watched movie of all time. As in, ever. For those of you who know my mother, or her sister, or even their mother before them, well, you know that The Wizard of Oz is not just their favorite movie, it’s a part of them. Therefore, it’s a part of me. My biggest fear growing up, (like so many other children) was of the Wicked Witch of the West. She’s terrified kids for over 86 years.
However, if there is one thing we learn early on in the film, and one thing that I was taught from a very early age, it’s that “only bad witches are ugly.” And if there ever were a good witch, it was my great aunt, Patsy Matthews.
You see, the funny thing is that my Aunt Pat was actually not related to me on my mother’s side. She was the sister of my father’s mother, Betty Jane. She did, however, share the same love of The Wizard of Oz. That was just a “happy little accident,” as the late philosopher Bob Ross so eloquently stated.
Aunt Pat was a rare breed. Of course, she was a quintessential southern woman. She cooked, cleaned and doted to make sure that all of her people were loved on at all times. She hosted Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. She never missed a birthday. Ever. And you were going to get exactly what you asked for. Because that’s just how Pat did things. If you had a big date, she was going to make sure you had a fresh new outfit, with several options to choose from. And it was never out of the realm of possibility for a grocery bag to be waiting on the front door, because you just mentioned the fact that you liked a particular snack. Because that’s just how Pat did things. She was a giver, not a taker, and she was going to give as much as she could, all the time.
Pat was a lifesaver. Literally and figuratively. She was a faithful employee of Betsy Johnson Regional Hospital for many years, which is where both my brother and I came into this world. Which is exactly the way Pat would want it, because as we learned very quickly, she was going to take care of all of her people. I could write a book about all the ways she spoiled her own children( my cousins), Scott & Paula. They never wanted for anything. Those of you who know, know. This story though, is not about her children that she had to love. It’s about the ones she didn’t have to love, but did anyway.
Like any great story, we must go through the bad before we get to the good.
Unfortunately, my aunt and uncle lost their oldest child, Paula, in a tragic car accident. She was only 16. As you can imagine, they were destroyed. That’s just one of those things nobody should ever have to endure. My father, Shawn, was unknowingly about to set a very important precedent for our family. He stepped up. He lived there with my aunt for an extended period of time. She doted on him like she would her own child, and he stayed right by her side, all to help her cope with this unspeakable tragedy. I’m sure they would’ve been close had this period never taken place, but I’m also equally as sure that because of it, they forged a very special bond, never to be broken.
Time moved right along, as it tends to do, and by the year 2000 not only had my mother and father gotten married, but they were expecting their first child, yours truly. My grandmother, Betty Jane, was so excited to be a grandmother. I wish I had a dollar for every time someone told me that my life would be different had she lived. Unfortunately, on July 4th of that year, she lost a courageous battle with cancer. There sat another giant void in our family. As we all know, grandmothers are the glue. So, someone needed to step up and fill that void, just as my father had done years ago.
Who would fill that void?
Who else?
Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. AKA, Pat.
I have so many fond memories of Aunt Pat. Some big, some small. She never missed anything. Not a ball game, not a church event, not a school recital, nothing. She used a converted cigar box as a purse, and always had it stocked with candy. She kept all my favorite snacks at her house, just in case we stopped by. For Easter, she always made a cake in the shape of a bunny. She’d also make a killer pound cake, (everything she made was good). She had a very unique style, as only she could. She wore her hair up most of the time and loved long flowy skirts, typically, accompanied by a pair of thick wedges. We spent many Friday nights sitting in her living room, telling old stories, coffee and desserts abounding. She was every bit the good witch. Whimsical. Magical. She had a certain quality about her that you couldn’t define. You just knew it when you saw it. She was special. She gave and gave and gave and never asked for anything in return, always with a smile.
I also remember the night I was involved in an ATV accident, losing one of my best friends in the process.
Who was the first one there?
Who else?
Glinda, the Good Witch of the North. Waving her wand, and knowing all the while she couldn’t fix it, but she was going to be right there beside me anyway. Every step of the way.
Now, I know I keep comparing Pat to Glinda from The Wizard of Oz. Those of you reading probably think, “Oh that’s sweet. He thinks she was this beautiful, magical woman.” You wouldn’t be wrong. But no. I mean she was literally Glinda. Every year for Halloween.
This will forever be my lasting image of her, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Whimsical. Magical. Kind. Gentle. Humorous. One of a kind.
I’m sad to say that this is where the story must take another sad turn, because in October of 2016 we lost our beloved Pat to another courageous battle with cancer. She was an angel of this world, taken too soon by that dreaded disease. Now when I say that to me, she was larger than life, she was truly larger than life. Things like that just don’t happen to Patsy Matthews (she was a good witch, after all).
She died at an awkward time in my life. I was 16, and still trying to navigate girls and the slippery slopes of eleventh grade society. I remember not seeing her over the last few weeks of her life, and not knowing if I would want to see her again. I didn’t want to see her like that, and I certainly didn’t want to think about the idea of her not being here anymore.
As it turned out, however, I was there the night she died. My dad, my cousin Scott, his wife Lauren and my Uncle Joe and I all stood around her and we sobbed. But we also rejoiced. We all knew in our hearts that there would be no more cancer, no more bad tasting medicine, no more sleepless nights and no more pain. An ever after befitting a good witch.
Losing someone like Pat was hard, because there was only one of her. There was no filling that void. She was a true original, angel of this earth, who served a much higher calling. I like to think that there are certain people (like Pat) who are just too pure for this world. Brought to us to serve a certain purpose, a divine mission if you will. And in the case of Patsy Matthews, she came down in her pink bubble, she waved her wand, and she showed us all a little bit of magic while she was here.
Let us not forget that while what Pat did was great, it was not unattainable. I think for so many of us nowadays we feel like the good days are behind us. There’s no hope left for America, or the world for that matter. We want to return to a simpler time, and we feel helpless. Much like Dorothy, we just want to “go home”. But we must not forget what Glinda revealed to Dorothy before she received what she so desperately wanted.
“You’ve always had the Power, my dear. You just had to learn it for yourself”
We, too, have the power to live by Pat’s example. We can be kind and gracious. We can listen. Some of us can give material things. For others, when times are at their toughest, it may be enough to show up and just be present.
If she taught me anything (and she taught me a lot), it was to live a life of selflessness. Not thinking less of myself, but just thinking of myself less.
We’ve always had the power.
I do hope we learn it for ourselves.
Now be gone, before somebody drops a house on you, too.
-Caegan B. Jackson
The Book of Joe 