My mother-in-law, Adah, was the most remarkable woman. I will never forget the first time I met her. She greeted me as though she hadn’t seen me in years, arms open and heart wide. That was simply who she was—and who both of my wife’s parents were. They never met a stranger, and there was nothing they wouldn’t do for the people they loved.
Many people say, “Call me anytime, day or night,” but you often wonder how much you can really rely on that. With Adah and Les, there was never any doubt. Their word was as solid as the ground beneath your feet—you could take that promise straight to the bank.
I remember when Sheila and I were newly engaged and I was living on my own. I had a medical issue and truly needed someone to be with me. I never even had to ask Adah. She simply told Sheila that I needed someone watching over me, and she stayed the night in the spare bedroom in case I needed anything. That was Adah—always stepping in, always caring, without hesitation.
There was never a moment when I questioned where I stood with her. She told me every day that she loved me and that I was the best son she could ask for. Years ago, I told her she needed to drop the “in-law” part of “son,” because she was a mother to me in every sense of the word. And I can honestly say she was a mother figure to all of Sheila’s friends as well.
One of my favorite memories is the “trouble” we used to get into—though not really trouble at all. When Sheila and I were engaged, I worked nights, and many times Adah did too. We would sneak off to Waffle House at midnight or later, sitting over breakfast and talking for hours. Mostly, I listened, because Adah always had something to say—and it was always worth hearing.
On my days off, we’d find ourselves at fabric stores or shopping for clothes. How many guys choose to spend their free time hanging out with their mother-in-law? The ones who truly think the world of her.
Adah was my biggest cheerleader. Her love was unconditional. I would do yardwork for her when she wasn’t able, which always ended with me trying to sneak away before she could hand me money I didn’t want. Without fail, she’d meet me at the car and say, “Take this.” I’d refuse, and she’d say, “Take it while I’ve got it.” A few times I gave in—but most of the time, I’d “accidentally” slip it back into her purse when she wasn’t looking. I never did what I did for money. I did it because I loved her to the moon and back.
She was truly one of a kind, and there will never be another like her. I had the privilege of knowing her for 11,022 days of her life—and even that doesn’t come close to being enough.
Go rest high, Adah. Make the heavens shine, dear angel. 