Buffy Joyce Wilson, June 6 1969 - March 6 2020

I wasn't sure if I would be able to post this, but I realized that I can't possibly ever post anything else without first posting this.  In the early morning hours of Friday March 6th, our Lord wrapped His arms around my sweet sister Buffy, and took her home.


She fought cancer for the past year, and found peace surrounded by family.


When King David's infant child was stricken, David pleaded with God for the child's life. David refused to eat, and instead lay in sackcloth on the ground and wept, day after day:

"On the seventh day the child died. David’s attendants were afraid to tell him that the child was dead, for they thought, “While the child was still living, he wouldn’t listen to us when we spoke to him. How can we now tell him the child is dead? He may do something desperate.”

David noticed that his attendants were whispering among themselves, and he realized the child was dead. “Is the child dead?” he asked.“Yes,” they replied, “he is dead.”

Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate.

His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!”

He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”

2 Samuel 12:18-23

The local Abilene churches of Christ sent singers late Thursday evening, to send her off with the sounds of angels.

She passed from this life later that night.

Buffy asked to be buried on our family farm, and laid to rest in a simple and small, private ceremony consisting of just immediate family. In the early morning hours her soul found its way home, and just a few hours later that same morning, we brought her body home as well. 

In a simple and Texas frontier-style way, we wrapped her body in a hand-made quilt MoMo had made for her, and rested her head on a pillow made out of the cotton PoPo had grown on the farm. We said a few words, covered her body in roses, and said good-bye, for now.


Her body was gently covered in the grave by hand, by her husband, her father, her brother, her brother-in-law and her nephews.

I have never seen a going-away ceremony so intimate and personal.


While the men gently covered the grave, the ladies went inside and prepared lunch.  Afterwards, the family sat down to a memorial meal with a place setting reserved for Buffy, while we looked back on our memories of her, within view of the grave-site just outside the dining room windows.


We will go to her one day, but she cannot return to us.





In memory: