The Bryan Family

A tribute to Mama Jean, written by Neale’s father:

Thursday night Cheryl and I sat in my study at the church building talking to Ganelle and James (my sister and brother-in-law) on the speaker phone about the worsening condition of my mother’s dementia. It was becoming increasingly evident that she could not continue to live on her own. A variety of options were discussed, including having her come to Imperial and live with us.

Friday morning, about 8:30, James called to tell us that my precious, sweet little Mama had died peacefully in her sleep. It was like she was somehow aware of our concern for her and how to best care for her – so she took matters into her own hands. As usual, she had a better way. The steadfast faith that guided her life and molded her character has now been realized, and she is at home. Blessed are those who die in the Lord!

She and my Dad were childhood sweethearts. As second-graders in my grandmother’s classroom, he asked her to marry him – she said she would if he’d buy her a car! (Well, over the years, he bought her lots of cars.)

They were separated for over ten years because of their families’ moves to different parts of the state. Then as a sophomore at Texas A&M, Dad began looking for her, calling relatives he thought might know of her whereabouts. He found her, working for Western Auto in San Antonio; and so began the true romance of The Summer of 42. They were married on December 19, 1942.
Those were war years. In 1944, at the beginning of his senior year, Dad’s class at A&M was called up early for service. He was commissioned a second lieutenant and told to prepare for combat training and deployment.

I was born on December 9, 1944. Two weeks later Dad received orders sending him to New York for embarkation. A few days later my mother left a three-week-old infant with grandparents and took a train to New York to be with Dad before he was deployed. He shipped out for the war in Germany on Christmas Day, 1944.

I am one of the many fortunate war babies in that my Dad came home. He and Mom built a life and family (two sisters) together – a home and family that now flood my mind with the fondest of memories.

Dad died on June 3, 1984, while visiting us on the mission field in South Africa. His death was sudden and gut-wrenching. We were stunned and overwhelmed with grief. He was a good man, a devout servant of God, a loving husband and father. It took a long time to recover from his loss.

Mom – the word “gone” seems so unnatural because she’s always been “there.” Yet, reacting to the news of her death, I feel no great sorrow. Oh to be sure, I am writing these words through
tear-blurred eyes. I am sad. But I am also profoundly thankful. I am thankful I knew the woman named Jean Bryan. I’m thankful she was my mother. I’m thankful for all the good things that characterized her life. And I’m thankful her life ended swiftly and peacefully in the repose of sleep.

I love you, Mom, forever. Your Billy-boy.

Ellie meets her great-grandmother.  Eleanor Jean Bryan and Mama Jean  December 2008

Ellie with Mama Jean, December 2008

The Bryan family with Mama Jean December 2008