Condolences for Patsy Ann Boyd

Amy posted on 4/3/20

I think what I’ll miss most about Mammie is the way she always listened. No matter what I was talking about she always heard me. And her praise of “that’s real nice, Amy”, when coming from someone else might seem insincere, but from her it was so genuine. It’s something my dad says too, it’s his most heartfelt compliment. That’s how I know he really approves of something. And it’s nice to know he got that from his mama. All the family dinners at her house - her rolls and the corn pudding that no one can ever make as good as she did; Easter egg hunts when she tried to make sure all the grandkids got a special egg; going into the hall closet to get the bop-it or pogo stick; heading out on the front porch to have a chat. Our Christmas ice skating and movie trips her and Granny would take all the cousins on. I like to think her and Granny are together again, how they were always meant to be.


Leslie Trest posted on 4/3/20

My heart is heavy. We have lost a truly gentle soul. I have known her for most of my life. I am not family by blood or marriage but family in the sense that I loved her dearly as she did me. She welcomed me graciously into her family many, many years ago. She was the most kind, caring and generous woman I have ever known. Rob, Patti, Jimmy and Leslie, I want to thank your for including me as part of your family. I want to thank you for sharing her with me, for sharing both of your parents with me over the last 38 years and for letting me be part of so many momentous occasions and milestones. I am honored to have known her. I am honored that my children were able to know her and she know them. My heart aches for your loss. I will miss her deeply.


Leslie posted on 4/3/20

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m living, My Mommy you’ll be”


Leslie posted on 4/3/20

It’s important to me to make sure that Mammie is remembered as she would want to be. Scoliosis, pain, and medication did a lot of damage to her in her final years, but she was so much more than these final years. Part of me wants to rage at how cruel life can be, how she suffered so much. But I won’t rage, because she wouldn’t want me to. Her generous nature would encourage us all to let the sadness go and just focus on the beautiful moments we had with her. I’d like to ask us all to look back in our lives and remember our beloved mother and Mammie as she was for most of her days. She was a girl who rebelliously danced to “Great balls of fire” with my father in her parents living room, all the while knowing her mother was NOT happy about this NEW music. She was a bright eyed girl who married a sailor against her parents wishes. They liked him, but they did not want her to get married so young. As a young couple they struggled, and they often ate PBJ’s to get by. She was a bit of a hipster, and I can remember her dancing with us kids to the old song “Squeezebox” at my uncle Billy’s house. She was a buffer between us and our father when we got into trouble. She was a peacemaker who tried to keep things in the house running smoothly. She was the glue that held our family together. I will miss the early morning phone calls on my birthday, and I will miss hearing her sing Christmas carols in her kitchen. She was The apple of her father’s eye, and vice versa. She grieved terribly when she lost him, and she spoke of him often with a smile and a tear. She was a proud mother. She never hesitated to tell us that we were loved and she always found something in us worth praise, even when we ourselves couldn’t see it. She most specifically defined herself as a loving Mammie. The grandkids were her life, even as she aged. They may be too young to remember, but there was never a weekend in the past that we weren’t all together at her home, playing red rover, sharing a meal, watching football or having a picnic. As she got older that got harder for her but she always loved her grandchildren unconditionally. She loved to travel and experience new things. She overcame her fear of boats and became an avid cruiser. She ALMOST overcame her fear of flying. She was a caregiver. As dad’s illnesses progressed, she stepped up in real love and cared for him, no matter what his needs were. Even has her own body began to betray her, she was steadfast in physically caring for him and loving him. Most specifically for me, she was my precious mama. My best friend, confidant, protector, biggest fan, counselor, cheerleader, and giver of unconditional love. She accepted me for all my flaws and poor decisions. She knew all of my faults yet still loved me completely. I can’t compare her to other moms, I’ve only known her love - and I know I would choose no other. She leaves behind four children who are devastated with her loss, and are grappling with the irony of losing the one person in the world who could always help us deal with and conquer our worst pain.



Melissa Boyd posted on 4/2/20

My Dearest Mammie... I took your hand and promised to take care of Bubba. And I will do my best for you. I find it very difficult to imagine visits to McClure Road without. Walking onto that porch to visit you & Granny always meant family, security, love and knowing my three little ones were loved. Movies, Christmas lights, watching the year without a Santa Claus on Thanksgiving....waiting for you to find our gift that you took such effort in wrapping at Christmas. Many years later, we found another love..cruising. The planning, shopping, packing, driving, rest stops, Cracker Barrel meals... and the memories from the cruises. Priceless. Just priceless. Running through my head eating spaghetti at that restaurant, the Platters, dressing up and looking fancy!! I am so grateful and thankful and blessed to have all these precious memories tucked away in my head. You were my momma. I lost a small piece of my heart when you flew high. I will miss you dearly❤️.


Jennifer Wild posted on 4/2/20

My grandmother left us early monday morning. Her entire life was lived in service to her family. She taught me so much growing up. There were practical things, like how to sew and make zucchini bread, but the things she taught by demonstration, without even realizing she was teaching, are far more valuable. She taught me the importance of taking a quiet moment for self care and reflection. She was always up in the dark hours of the morning, sitting quietly, enjoying a cup of coffee. She taught me that love can be shown in many ways, by wrapping me up in the warm robe that she was just wearing when I woke up to find her sitting in the dim light. She helped foster my love of travel, they never went on a vacation without taking a couple of grandkids along. She was the perfect southern lady, composed and polite and hospitable, but with a quiet fire that lived inside. She lived her own way, she never let her family or upbringing or circumstances influence her beliefs, even when she stood alone in them. She taught me strength. She had a quiet sense of humor, which made it even better when she let it out. She pretended that she was too genteel to understand a dirty joke, but we saw her snickering with a twinkle in her eye. She'd never let you go to bed without dessert, and she never let anyone leave without standing on the front porch, waving goodbye until the car was out of sight. She would cook elaborate meals for holidays, host the entire family in her house, and she wouldn't sit and eat until she was sure everyone had what they needed. She even showed patience when, in my curiosity, I managed to deflate about 50 yeast rolls she had rising on her kitchen counter for a Thanksgiving meal. She shared her simple love of tomato sandwiches and grilled cheese with me, she'd cut mine into the shape of a flower. In the end, she showed us humility and vulnerability, traits that don’t often come easy to a strong southern woman. She and my grandfather were the model of a perfect relationship, not without struggle, but full of grace and perseverance and constant, unwavering love. I don’t know if I believe in any higher power, or what form it may take, but I hope like hell he was waiting for her and they’re together again, in some way. She has taught me so much about the kind of woman I want to be, and I will continue on with her lessons and values in mind. Que Sera, Sera... What Will Be Will Be.


Mary Morris posted on 4/2/20

I would like to share a moment from her granddaughter Lisa and our son, Jason’s wedding rehearsal dinner. She was standing sweetly next to my husband Vince and looking so elegant in her dress. I couldn’t imagine what she and Vince were snickering about, until the waitresses brought out two shots of what appeared to be vodka. Patsy and Vince clincked shot glasses and downed the shots, in a toast to the bride and groom. I recall every being in shock, as Patsy was quite a petite woman. They both laughed to themselves, and later Vince tells me that Patsys “shot of vodka” was actually plain old water. She fooled us allll for sure. Will never forget that, and many special moments with her and the family. We are honored to know her and she will be greatly missed. Love Vince and Mary Morris


Jackie Dillard posted on 4/2/20

Fly high, my dearest aunt (other mom) you brought so much love and joy to this world, Fly high