Hughes, Elizabeth

Elizabeth Hughes, age one hundred, formerly of McMinnville, TN, passed away on Sunday, May 10, 2015. She is preceded in death by her husband of sixty-eight years, James Duwarde Hughes; parents John Meredith and Maude Lorane Adair Rowland; brothers Colville and Gaines (Beryl) Rowland; and sister Mary Rowland Greer. She is survived by nephew Clifford (Janet) Rowland of Nashville; great nieces Nanette (David) Luna of Atlanta and Melanie (Michael) Thurmond of Nashville; great-great nephews and niece, Eric (Rachel) Myles, Davis Luna of Atlanta, and Tori Thurmond of Nashville; and great-great-great niece Harper Luna of Atlanta.

Mr. and Mrs. Hughes were members of Granny White Church of Christ and Brentwood Hills Church of Christ for many years. She was a devoted Christian, wife, and aunt. She was dearly loved by her family, friends, and all who knew her. The family would like to express great appreciation to the sitters/companions who loved and cared for their aunt: Terri Campbell, Sandra Hulbert, Faun Johnson, and Denise Alexander. In addition, the family would like to express their great appreciation to the wonderful nurses and technicians from Woodcrest at the Blakeford of Green Hills who cared for their aunt.

In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to the following: Nashville Humane Society, 213 Oceola Ave., Nashville 37209, for their love of animals, especially their beloved cat “Kitty,” which brought such joy to their life, or the Chinese Agape Foundation, c/o Holly Machemehl, 209 Palisades, Peach Tree City, Georgia 30269. Mrs. Hughes was passionate about this foundation. She started the chapter in the Ladies Bible Class at the Blakeford and helped many children living in orphanages in China.

Eulogy by Carolyn Wilson on June 7, 2015

I am honored today to share with you memories of my friendship with Elizabeth Hughes, a friendship that stretched over five decades and one that has blessed my life and that of my family beyond measure. Elizabeth was a small lady, a woman of grace, hospitality, generosity, intellect, wit, warmth, devotion, one who loved unconditionally and loyally all who knew her. She loved her family and she loved her friends, and that composite of all these was large. She loved beauty in all forms, the beauty of the jewelry that Jim made for her and his other works of art, flowers—she saw beauty where others could not.

It is still difficult to say Elizabeth without saying Jim. They were a portrait of a devoted couple. Elizabeth was a woman of few words, but when she expressed an observation, it was concise and insightful, and often witty. I recall so vividly being in this facility for the memorial for Jim. I was standing outside the room looking at the photos and there was a picture of Jim and Elizabeth made very young in their lives. Elizabeth came up to me and said, “He sure was a handsome dude, wasn’t he?” I had to chuckle and I agreed, “He was indeed a handsome dude and she was a lovely chick.” She ignored the last comment.

Jim was a talented man, an artist, an educator, a musician, a true Renaissance man. Yet in her quiet way, Elizabeth complemented these talents. Jim liked Asian art. Elizabeth learned to cultivate bonsai trees, an art of its own. It was always obvious that she was the wind beneath his wings. Their hospitality was warm and open and memories of so many meals and visits we shared are legion. These began when we were very young, with a new baby, and continued through the years of our daughters growing up and then our grandchildren. My girls always loved to go to the Hughes’s home, where Jim would entertain with art and music and Elizabeth had a continual offering of cookies and hot

chocolate. Elizabeth liked inviting friends for breakfast on Saturdays. My husband never liked getting up early on Saturdays, unless we were having breakfast at the Hughes’s home.

There are also fond memories of occasions at our home as well. We shared mutual friendships and there was always lively and provocative conversation. Once we had invited John and Eva Crothers and Elizabeth and Jim for seafood gumbo. We had just returned from New Orleans and Larry, who did not cook, decided he could do this dish better than anyone, and wanted to try it on the Crotherses and the Hugheses. Since Larry had severe allergies which caused digestive problems, he did not often eat heavily spiced food. Shortly after the meal began, John spoke up and said, “Carolyn, do you have some hot sauce in the kitchen?” I did and I brought it to the table where John sprinkled it liberally on his gumbo, passed it to Jim, who also sprinkled a more than liberal amount as he had to do a few more drops than John. This went back and forth several times until both were breathing fire, and I decided I should replenish the water glasses. Elizabeth reached over and got the bottle of sauce, handed it to me, and said, “I think that is enough of that, don’t you?” It was the last word.

It is difficult to watch the decline of health in one you love. Elizabeth so devotedly cared for Jim and her family has devotedly cared for her. In all the times of these last months, when her frail little body was worn out, her mind was active and alert. God allowed her to reach the landmark of one hundred. Around Christmas when she felt so badly and knew that she was declining, she told me that she though she wanted to live to be one hundred, but at that time she was not so sure. I think she really was sure and she did it.

This is a celebration of life, and there is reason to celebrate; Elizabeth would have wanted it to be so. The words of the poet Christina Rossetti, said it so beautifully in her poem “Remembrance”:

Remember me when I am gone away, Gone far away into the silent land; When you can no more hold me by the hand Nor I half turn to go yet turning stay.

Yet if you should forget me for a while And afterwards remember, do not grieve; For if the darkness and corruptions leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.

I will not forget you, Elizabeth, and I will smile as I remember and as I carry you in my heart. In our hope and with the psalmist, we know that “weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Psalm 30:5…Carolyn