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She Walked in Beauty

© Barbara Nicholson Bell

The parlor of the funeral home is adorned with dozens of photos of my mother, in frames and on easels. They include recent pictures of her with her family and friends, on her travels, as well as pictures from the early years of marriage and child-rearing, her own childhood and her parents. The gathering of well-wishers and mourners walks slowly about the room, in silence or tearful whispers.

My sisters and I spent several hours going through the hundreds of photographs my mother had saved, almost wallowing in the memories and sharing laughs, questions and tears while we assembled a representative display. This is a relatively recent custom at wakes and viewings, to display photos of the deceased. We know it is cathartic, therapeutic and a source of mixed emotions for us. We hope it will be the same for her friends.

Those who knew Jeanne only in recent years recognize her immediately and comment on her youthfulness and energy for a woman in her late '70's. Those who knew her for twenty or thirty years are also amused to see themselves in the shots of long-ago parties, poignant reminders of their own lost youth.

All, however, are struck speechless by the pictures of my mother as a young woman, before she married and moved North to raise a family. The elegant sweep of her evening gown, as she leaned against a winding staircase at age 16, for her "coming-out" in Society; her poise and classic grace in the newspaper engagement photo; her slim form and richly tumbling dark hair beneath the bridal veil in the formal wedding portrait - her stunning beauty as a young woman shocks nearly everyone. My mother was always elegant, always well-groomed, always "coiffed", but I imagine all her friends and acquaintances took that for granted as much as they did her personality.

My mother did not consider herself a beauty, for as a pre-teen she was chubby. Her mother did not give compliments or believe in "positive reinforcement", but as Jeanne grew into her teens, she slimmed down and became lovely. Her children also took her beauty for granted, because children do, and because we as girls were much more concerned with our own looks. Probably only her father and her husband truly appreciated how special she was. How sad, I think, that she did not find her self-esteem in the eyes of others.

I'm stopped in the middle of that thought by the sudden understanding that my mother's beauty was indeed reflected in the eyes of others - but it was the beauty of her spirit and soul and heart. That was the source of her self-esteem, for she knew that the secret to receiving love and respect was to give love and respect. Her life, therefore, made an impact on the lives of countless others in her seventy-seven years here on Earth. One could not meet her for the first time without smiling, or know her for any length of time without considering her a dear and beloved friend.

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