RIP Mama Collins

When I reflect on my Mama Collins, two very distinct personalities come to mind. The first is a spitfire storyteller. There is no question that Mama loved a good story and a dirty joke. Her ability to attract an audience and get a whole room hysterically laughing was a one-of-a-kind talent. Most of her material came from years of comic strips which she diligently collected over time. I’ll steer clear of her jokes as we all know they are PG-13 rated or worse, but I will share one of her favorite stories.

In true prankster fashion, she and dad used to wait until Papa was in his PJs and comfortably resting in his chair. Then they would continually whine for ice cream, not letting up until Papa would rustle from his chair, put his slippers on, and head to the car to get the two some dessert. Upon his return, they would wait until he pulled into the garage then rush to tuck dad in. Papa would trudge down the hall to give them their ice cream when the two would say, “no, we don’t want any ice cream anymore.” Then the two would erupt in laughter. Like mother, like son so they say.

I believe that we all saw this jokester side of Mama, Mother, Christine, or Ms. Chris, however you might have known her. But the second personality, the one that was revealed to family and close friends, is my favorite, the secret sentimentalist. It was seen in how she adored her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren helping them accomplish their goals. It was seen in how she was active in numerous charitable causes throughout her life. It was heard in how she bragged about dad and his charismatic nature, in how she boasted about her name sake Taylor Christine. It was heard in how without fail each time I came for a visit she asked when I would be moving home. And it was heard in how she spoke with such passion and unconditional love for Papa always.

My favorite story of Mama’s sentimental heart comes from 2002. She had so adamantly told Papa no to the idea of getting a dog. So much that she returned several dogs he attempted to bring home. Simultaneously, I was sneaking a white, fury Bichon Frise around the house and the dealership. Mama got wind of this and decided to see what the pup was all about. It didn’t take her five minutes to fall in love with Bijoux. I honestly don’t think she made it out of the showroom floor before calling me to get the low down on where I had gotten her. A few days later, feeling quite certain it was for the better, I decided to give Bijoux to Mama and Papa. BJ, as they called her, turned out to be one of the most precious gifts the two would share towards the end of their time together. And when Papa passed, it was BJ that she was able to find comfort in.

So as the story ends…

If you look up to Heaven
I’m certain that you’ll see
Mama, Papa, & BJ
Laughing, smiling down on you and me.