Sister Mary Lee Freeney Green

It's been a month - today, Mom 😢

Mom 😔

Happy 90th Birthday,Mom I love you

Mom,I need to tell you something, ok Dearest Mother,

I find myself compelled to speak to you, even in your absence, because there are things my heart needs to say—things I cannot leave unsaid. Since you fell asleep in God, my days and nights have been an unrelenting storm of sorrow, confusion, and anger. I have wept incessantly, grappling with the profound injustice of your departure. The weight of your absence is crushing, and the void you have left is immeasurable.

And yet, in the depths of my mourning, I find myself wondering—does God have a sense of humor? Does He, in His infinite wisdom, interject moments of levity to encourage His people when grief becomes unbearable? This morning, I believe He did just that.

In my anguish, I texted Wayne, insisting that he call Judy immediately to remove that outdated, unprofessionally designed excuse for a tribute from the website. I pleaded for the dignity you deserve, for the beauty and inspiration you embodied to be reflected in the image that represents your legacy. But Wayne, as expected, remained impervious to my urgency, tuning me out as though I were whispering into the wind.

And then, amidst my frustration, something unexpected happened. I laughed. For the first time since you left this world, I laughed. I looked again at that wig you wore in the photo, and suddenly, grief gave way to joy. I knew—without a doubt—that had to be a Sunday morning rush to church, a day where time was against you, and in the flurry of last-minute preparations, you took those scissors and cut your bangs unevenly. The vision of it was so undeniably you that I could no longer cry. Instead, I burst into laughter, a laughter born not of mockery, but of love, of remembrance, of the essence of who you were.

Mother, even in your absence, you continue to teach me. You remind me that sorrow and joy can coexist, that laughter is not a betrayal of grief but rather an acknowledgment of a life so full, so cherished, that even in mourning, there is room for joy.

So, here's what I texted Wayne: Although her wigs😳at times were uhhh😂 that's because Mom would go in the bathroom right before church and trim her bangs 🤣🤣🤣🤣.. I be like 😳 Mom, what did you do???🤷‍♂️ So,that wig on that picture is no surprise 😂😂😂😂.. I ALWAYS offered to pay for Mom to go to the beauty shop every two weeks 🤦‍♂️ but ,she was like,GURL I CAN BUY SOME TUSSY DEODORANT, DIAL SOAP AND GET SOME GAS WITH THAT MONEY😂😂😂😂😂 She said she can do her OWN HAIR 😂

Whew Lawd😊 I'm going to miss that drama queen😔

I know that, somehow, you heard me. And I know that somewhere, in the presence of the Divine, you are smiling.

Lastly, Sissy ( that's what I call my sister )

In the depths of my sorrow, when the weight of grief felt insurmountable, you unknowingly gave me a moment of reprieve—a fleeting but profound restoration of joy. For that, I owe you my deepest gratitude.

In leaving that photo of Mom on her obituary—the one with her unmistakably unevenly cut bangs, a relic of what could only have been a rushed Sunday morning—you gifted me something priceless. In my relentless anguish, in the ceaseless ache of losing her, I did not expect to find laughter again so soon. But there it was, unbidden and pure, breaking through my sorrow like light through a storm.

I looked at that picture, and instead of drowning in grief, I saw her—not just as the woman we have now lost, but as the woman we knew and loved in life. I saw her spirit, her beautiful imperfections, her humanity. I saw the mother who, even in her hurry to serve God, would take those scissors to her hair with determined conviction, only to step back and realize the symmetry had betrayed her. And I laughed. For the first time since she fell asleep in God, I laughed.

Judy, I know that image wasn't chosen with the intent of making me smile. But that's the beauty of it—whether by divine orchestration or by sheer happenstance, it brought me a moment of joy in a sea of sorrow. It reminded me that love does not reside solely in polished portraits or curated perfection; it lives in the raw, unfiltered moments that make up a life well-lived.

So, thank you. Thank you for leaving that picture. Thank you for allowing me to see our mother not just in mourning but in memory, not just in loss but in laughter. That one simple choice became a salve to my grieving heart, and for that, I am forever grateful.

With love, your spoiled little sister, me

Toot, now, Aka - Dr Teresa Green

Dear Mom,

I miss you already ,more than words can ever express. Every day feels incomplete without you. The world keeps moving, but mine stands still in the space you left behind. Nothing feels the same—anymore ,even the quiet moments I find myself not able to sit... God I need you like earth needs rain. Mom I'm going to need some REAL therapy for this one, prayer is comforting but it's not enough for this kind of pain.

I don't understand why God called you home when He did. Maybe He needed another angel in His kingdom, but the void He left in my heart is immeasurable. I struggle to accept it. I try to find meaning in the pain, but truthfully, nothing makes sense

My heart will never fully heal, but I promise I will try to weather the storms of losing you. Some days, the pain is unbearable, but I hear your voice in my heart, reminding me to be ( hold on), to keep going. I will carry your love with me always.

I love you, Mom. I miss you beyond words.

Forever your child, Dr Teresa Green

Smh

Our thoughts and prayers are with you all Sis. Judy. May God give each of you strength during this difficult time.

Love you

Our staff will continue to keep your family in our prayers. We thank you for allowing us to serve your family.