We lost my Mom last week. A more loving and supportive person, I’ve never met. Her influence was vast, on me and all those who encountered her sweet and loving presence. Lincoln had it right when he said “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.”
Obituary
Mary Peugh Taylor passed from this life to the next in the morning hours of December 21, 2023. She was born on December 13, 1952 in Tift County to Herbert Willis Peugh and Carmen Riggins Peugh. She married Eddie Taylor in 1972 and started a family with firm foundations of unconditional love and unbounded support, and a little impromptu adventure to keep things light and fun.
Mary had a kindness in her, a grace that she extended without thought of merit or conditions to those that came into her life. She loved because there was someone there to love. This love was extended to her family, friends, anyone who needed a sweet word from a sweet lady. The stresses of this life would evaporate in Mary’s presence, her infectious smile and big hugs made sure of that. And she was watching. In any group, she would instinctively know who needed a quiet word, a warm place to grow, or a determined push to live a life of purpose and love.
Her family and friends would turn to Mary often, as she always seemed to know the right thing to do, the right thing to say, the right way to make others feel welcomed, valued, and special. She was always ready with the perfect advice and the willingness to go to work and make something special happen.
Her loss is felt keenly by her surviving son, Trey, his wife Sheya, and their children Ret, Emmaline, and Mary-Salter Taylor. Her son Trent, passed before his mother. His wife Holly, and their children Haley and Ty will carry special memories of her forever. She is also survived by her brother, Tony Peugh and his husband Carl Davis, Henry Sparrow, her companion of many years, and so many nieces and nephews, cousins and friends. Each will struggle to fill the empty space of her passing.
Behind it all, Mary’s legacy remains: love everyone you can, when you can.
Eulogy
That was my mom’s favorite song, Ave Maria Gratia Plena, Hail Mary full of Grace, and without offending any religious responsibilities I want to let you know why I feel like it so fully describes her life with us.
There is a famous poem that you hear sometimes at funerals called the dash. In it, the poet speaks of the dash that coms between the date of birth and the date of death. In that dash is contained a person’s whole life. The writer says “What matters is how we live and love and how we spend our dash.” I’m here to tell that you that my mother, Mary Taylor spent her dash well. I know you all knew and loved her, but I wanted to share some things that I knew about my mom with you today.
In her life, she was a dutiful daughter, protective sister, loyal friend, loving aunt and cousin, devoted wife, doting grandmother, and an amazing mother, and a passionate mother-in-law. She was known in her time as Ma-ree, Hattie B, Aunt Mary, Mama, Mrs. Mary, and Grammy. Those that loved her – and so many people loved her – knew that she was there to offer unconditional love and support to anyone who came into her orbit, regardless of them asking for it, deserving it, or even knowing they needed it. This characteristic has given rise to the weirdest phenomenon in the past several days as we have dealt with her loss.
From around the country, I’ve received text messages, emails, calls and cards offering condolences on our loss and so many stories that start with “Your mom and I had a special bond …” and continue with a poignant memory when Mom was there to offer that special kind of love she was so good at. That word – special – it has come up in every single conversation. I listen for it now and it is always there because my Mom was special. She made you feel special, like you were the only one in the world. And we all thought that, and thought we were the only ones, and it struck me hard as I realized that I have so many others that I share that with. Because Mom was full of grace.
I heard from a former employee who said “When I think of your Mom I remember her rushing to SGMC when my son, Dustin had his accident. She showed up with gifts, cards and Hershey kisses. She sat with me, cried with me and gave the best hugs! Whenever Dustin would hurt or fuss we gave him a kiss. To this day whenever someone has kisses we talk about Miss Mary Taylor. She was such a blessing in my life and the lives of my boys.” I know that because Mrs. Mary was full of grace.
And so many of them were people who stayed at her house while visiting our company or clients for work. She would always open her house so that someone traveling away from home would have a place where they could stay and be comfortable, and not waste their money on hotel rooms. We joked often that for her birthday we were going to get her a revolving door for the front of the house. And those people wouldn’t just stay there, they’d have a glass of wine, talk deep into the night, share their own stories and hardships and Mom would just be there loving them through it all.
One person told me, “I stayed with your Mom when I was going through a really tough time and no one knew it. Thoughts of ending it all were in me, but every night I would sit up with Mrs. Mary and think ‘I could never make that choice and let her think that I wasn’t strong enough to get through this. There were a lot of factors, but staying with your Mom was one of the things that saved my life back then.” Because Mom was full of grace.
In my professional life, I study the lives of successful men and women and try to analyze them, to break their lives down into a single lesson that others can learn to be successful, as well. In all of my work, the specific trait that I notice time and again in the people who matter is to be someone confirmed in your identity and then to pursue what that means every day of your life. It may sound strange, but the more I think about my own mother I realize that mom always knew who she was and she used that to guide her actions, to become special and to make others feel that way, too.
She did so much of that by just being on the lookout for fun. Several years ago, she decided that the grandkids needed their own Christmas tradition and she came up with the Teddy Bear Tree out of the blue. One night before Christmas they would all be over helping Grammy decorate a special tree hung with 2 dozen teddy bears, and the parents were welcome to be somewhere else. There would be hot chocolate and brownies and the kids would be so focused on doing good work because Grammy made them feel special, loved and important. Because Grammy was full of grace.
Another time, we were on vacation one summer in a state park in Tennessee and that week we played pioneers with my mom in the woods every day. We swept out campsites, built a spitroast, piled up firewood. We even bought coonskin hats and were convinced that we could live out there forever if we wanted to. Mom made it fun and real for us. Our interests were her interests.
I loved Star Wars growing up and had all of the little figures that kids play with. My mom would make little playsets out of shoeboxes, and one time she sewed clothes for a bunch of my figures out of fabric scraps, just something to add a bit more fun and to show me that what was important to me was important to her.
A month before she passed, I attended a retreat for creative executives in Atlanta. I didn’t want to go but the way that the thing came about, I could feel there was a bit of magic behind it. I went in looking for the proof, looking for the thing that I was supposed to gain or give in the event. At the end of the second day, I was sitting around the firepit and struck up a conversation with a lady who does really senior-level consulting with Fortune 500 companies. She teaches the executives in those companies how to balance work and family. We had a great conversation and she shared with me stories about her 2 young boys, while I shared with her the amazing things my mom would do to play with Trent and I at their ages. By the end she was in tears, amazed by the depth of what my mom knew without the benefit of a fancy degree and high-powered clients. Last week I heard from her as she dropped me a line saying “I’ve decided to shut down my practice for the near term. Your story about your mom being there in play for you has changed the way I want to spend my time with my boys. Maybe in the future, I’ll go back to consulting, but for now my heart is with my boys.” I shared the story with Mom while she was in the hospital, she smiled and said “Good for her.” Full of grace.
My mother was always ready. She literally kept a suitcase packed at all times, ready for whatever adventure was on offer – a by-product of living with my Dad. I can’t ever remember a time when I called and said “Let’s go,” where she wasn’t ready and willing to pick up and go off for some fun adventure. I once had to work in Pasadena for a week and asked if she’d like to tag along. She did, enjoyed the hotel spa, visited museums, struck up conversations with lucky Californians, and just had a blast, taking it all in.
My brother and I loved to surprise her with impromptu trips – to Europe with Seth and Zack, and another time with her brother Tony, and another time with Henry – and she would come back with tales of how much fun they had – and they would be beaming with pride, too, because being part of my mom’s fun was fun and the way she enjoyed things made you want to do more things for her to enjoy.
But, I don’t want to overstate the case, Mom was very sweet and most people only know that about her. But she could be fierce in anger too, when she thought someone she loved was being treated poorly. Her Ty Ty babes called that part of her “Hattie B,” and I’ll let you imagine for yourself what the B stood for. She could brew up a storm in a heartbeat, let me tell you.
I sang with the Atlanta Boy Choir and that meant practices 2 days a week and all day on Saturday, an hour’s drive from home. My mom had me there on time every practice, and we never missed one. After a couple of years, I wanted to quit. I didn’t like the hours, the work, and not being able to have fun with my friends at home. She let me quit but after 2 weeks I came back to her and said I changed my mind. She called the Choir office and they said “too bad, we don’t take quitters” so the next day we drove to the office and Mom went in to see the extraordinarily intimidating Maestro, Fletcher Wolfe. I don’t know what was said between them but when she came to get me she was as white as a sheet and her hands were shaking, but I was back in and Mr Wolfe told everyone that Trey had a mother to be reckoned with. That summer we went on tour to France where I sang a solo -- Bach’s Ave Maria -- on Easter Sunday in Notre Dame.
There were other times too when she had to straighten someone out, but I don’t think she’d like us to remember her that way. Instead, let me share the one story recently that brought it all home to me. We have this family member who’s a bit loud and abrasive at times. (Don’t ask me who it is, if you’re wondering if it’s you, it’s probably you, but that doesn’t matter for the story.) When this person was at our house, it was kind of a struggle for my mom to be there, too. This person just got on her nerves, that’s all. I would kid her about it and then one day, all that tension evaporated and I noticed the two of the whooping it up and having a good time. I chided her later and said “I guess you made a new friend,” and she said “I don’t want to be someone who doesn’t love the people around me,” and just like that the old feelings were gone and she enjoyed her new friend. The definition of grace.
There are other things I could tell you. Mom was a terrible cook and she knew it. She hated Donna Summer and didn’t care who knew it. She liked coffee but I don’t think she ever finished a cup. She’d put it in the microwave to warm it up and forget all about it, or she’d spill it all over Sheya’s car on the way to some function at school. She never once remembered to take the bread out of the oven, but used the smoke alarm as a kitchen timer. Trent once said that he grew up thinking that if you couldn’t see yourself in the burnt bottom of a dinner roll, it wasn’t ready to eat.
And she could be bossy too, mostly to Henry in recent months. I told her a couple of months ago, “My God Mom, be nice to Henry, it’s embarrassing the way you boss him around,” and she look perplexed at me and said “Henry loves me and I love him,” and that was all the explanation needed. Love is what you do for people, especially when they can’t do it for themselves.
And now its up to us to follow her example.
Have Grace.
Be Sweet.
Be Fun.
Be Fierce.
To do these things even while we are hurting … hurting over her loss and the memories we will miss sharing together with her. Taking care of each other, loving those placed in our lives, reaching deep to find the little extra bit of fun, and being fierce in defense of those who need a little saving.
That’s the Mary Taylor way. Hail Mary Full of Grace.
Our condolences Trey, what a lovely and greatly appreciated woman your Mom will continue to be