When I glanced at my cell phone, I knew something was wrong. My eldest daughter, Polly, had called three times in about as many minutes. Fearing bad news―a wreck or sudden sickness―I punched in her number.
I heard her crying as soon as she picked up the phone. “Jamie called,” she said between sobs, “Judy didn’t wake up.”
Judy Walker was Jamie’s mother, a friend I had known since the girls―now in their 30s―became practically inseparable when they met in the sixth grade. Jamie vacationed with us, babysat for us and even captured a flying squirrel that came down our chimney. Her mom was an elegant, dignified woman with a heart of gold. And she was loads of fun to be around especially on girls’ trips when her scrumptious breakfast casserole was usually on the menu.
Through the years, Jamie has joked that I’m her second mama, and I like to tell her she’s my third daughter. I certainly understand that I can never take the place of Judy but I will always be around if Jamie needs me.
Her mom was a devoted member of Isle of Hope United Methodist Church where she served tirelessly on the flower guild. Doing so was a labor of love for Judy because she had a remarkable talent for arranging flowers and her twins, Jamie and Jarrett Walker, have asked that remembrances of their mother go to the IOH Methodist flower guild.