In Memoriam: Mary Bell (1925-2007)

On December 14, 2007 the world lost a wonderful woman. Mary Bell, my Nana, was loving, stubborn, gracious, and gentle. She was strong in faith and rich in family. She has been called back to God, joining her husband Edwin (1924-2006). She leaves behind three wonderful children (Michael, Nancy, and Mary Ellen) and seven grandchildren (Kasey, Lindsay, Courtney, Shane, Michael, Matthew, and myself). She will be missed by all of her family and friends. There is no one that has ever come into contact with her that did not sense the kindness and warmth that she possessed.

If you ever spent any amount of time with her, she would talk your ear off with stories of her grandchildren, her courtship with Edwin, or anything else that came to mind. No story was ever too small to tell, and if you made repeated visits you would be sure to hear the tales many times over!

Over the past year, ever since my Papa passed away, I had spent more time than I ever had with her. During that time I had the opportunity to hear those stories so many times over that I was able to finish them for her, adding some embellishments just to get her riled up. Not that she could ever get truly riled, more like argumentatively amused.

Anyway, during the year we had a weekly appointment. Each Friday I would leave work and head to the nearest pizza place, pick up a pie and then show up on her doorstep. I was getting so many pizzas that the owners and employees of the pizza place knew to expect me and knew exactly what I was going to order. Of course, this would cause the occasional issue with the rare occasions that I wanted something different.

So, I would get the pizza (medium cheese, no toppings no matter how often I suggested barbecue chicken) and when I arrived in the driveway, if it was warm out, she would be sitting on the porch waiting for me, but she would not move to let me in until I had the pizza in hand. However, on those cold days, I would be forced to stand on the cold stoop holding the pizza and maneuvering my cell phone into position to give her a call. See what happens without a doorbell?

Nana liked her pizza, but only one piece. I always offered more, but she would always respond with the same thing: "You know me, only one piece!" I always countered with the one time back in March, I believe, when she did have a second piece. Nana was particularly hungry that day, and the pizza was particularly delicious. You know just how good food can taste when you are really looking forward to it. Let me tell you that it was more than that one day in March. Every Friday I was sure to get out of work on time so I could get that pizza and have dinner with great company. Seeing her face light up as I walked through the door with that instantly recognizable box made whatever had gone on at work that day, or all week, seem entirely insignificant.

I would enter the kitchen, the table would already be set with plates, napkins, and the requisite bottles of Snapple iced tea (only half a bottle for Nana). Sitting on the kitchen counter would be a pair of teacups just waiting to be used once dinner was finished. I would place the pizza on top of the stove and the frenzy would commence. As we ate we would watch the news, which always led to interesting conversations about whatever was going on in the city or the world. Nothing serious mind you, but we would tend to take opposite sides of the issue. All in good fun. The evening would end after we had a cup of tea, me heading off to the movies and Nana into her TV room to watch the evening's game shows.

These Friday meetings have provided many great memories, but they do not tell the whole story. There was so much more to her than pizza and tea. She was a woman of extraordinary faith, a common face at St. Patrick's church, which she attended daily with Papa. Following his death, and her lack of a driver's license (and desire to drive in general), she would attend Sunday Mass with one of her friend's who would also take her to the cemetery to visit Papa's grave after Mass.

This lack of a driver's license left her virtually trapped in her home. Fortunately, she loved that house and the memories it contained and never desired nor wished to impose on others to leave it. That doesn't mean she didn't have any wish to leave the house ever. Every Saturday she had a standing appointment to have her hair and nails done. So, each Saturday the hairdresser would pick her up on her way to the salon, while my mother would pick her up afterwards. There was also the weekly trip to Adam's Farm Market. There she would get the necessities, and the occasional pie (which are to die for).

None of this even begins to scratch the surface, they are just happy memories of who she is, but they do not truly convey who she was or what she means to all of her loved ones. How does one go about giving an accurate representation of a person's essence in words? Is such a thing even possible? Anything that is written is just words, it can give an impression, but it can never come close to touching the intangibles of what it is to be loved and to love, of what makes her so special to so many people.

She lived a long and happy life, spending all of her years in Newburgh, New York. Here she went to high school and business school. Here she worked at the local hospital, in the business office, until her retirement many, many years ago. Here she met and married WWII veteran Edwin Bell, who proudly served his country in the Navy. Here she raised three children who have gone on to instill her ideals, faith, and love in their own children. It was in Newburgh where she forged lifelong friendships with neighbors and members of her parish.

On December 3, 2007 she suffered a stroke which left her incapacitated and hospitalized. Despite this scare, and a mild heart attack which followed days later, she never lost her faith, her love for her family, her stubbornness, nor her spunk. She would be visited daily by any number of family members. She was never left alone, not for a moment. She may not have been able to speak, but she was no less communicative. The longer she was there, the greater her spirit became. Then she was moved out of the hospital and into a nursing facility where she was to begin her rehabilitation. On her last day, she was visited by all three of her children. They saw a woman who was ready to get better, ready to come home to her family. However, it was not to be, it was her time. She is now with God, reunited with her husband of 58 years as well as her parents. She is happy now, she is in a better place.

That brings me closer to end of this rambling string of words. In the end it is impossible to sum up just what made her so good. There is too much that could be said — she has touched the lives of so many people in ways that will never be forgotten.

Mary Bell at 82 left us too soon. She still had so much to offer, so much to give. She will always be loved, always remembered. She will live on in our minds and in our hearts. She will be looking down upon us giving us her blessing in our lives going forward until that day when we will see her again.