Missy Patterson

Family and friends, a more traditional obituary will be available at mom's memorial service, but she had words she wanted others to hear as well. Below is her voice, her words, and her heart.

Everyone calls me Missy or Yaya. The nickname Missy came from my brother Chris, although neither of us is exactly sure why. There was something about him not being able to say “Sister,” plus he had a dog named Sissy. Whatever the reason, it stuck! I am thrilled to be known by my grandchildren as Yaya. It means grandmother in Greek.

I was born in Longview, Texas, at Markham Hospital. My mother was Della Mae Pepper, the second child and only daughter of Faith and Elisha Pepper. My father was Harold Christopher Todd, Sr., known as Polly. Lela was my grandmother on the Todd side. I never met her. Lamar was my grandmother Pepper’s middle name, Faith Lamar. I absolutely adored this lady. My parents were married for 25 years before they divorced in 1973. Growing up, our family became what you might call a “neighborhood gang.” Next door lived the Reynolds family. After both of Craig’s parents died, my mother stepped up and became his foster parent. He lived with us until college, where he became my brother’s roommate.

Three houses down lived the Jeters. After Eva died, my mother married Jim Jeter, and I gained two stepbrothers, Jerry and Vernon. No one could ever replace my daddy. I was a daddy’s girl for sure. But Jim was one of a kind. He loved my mother so much and became an exceptional stepfather to me. It was a tragic day when he passed away from a brain tumor. Longview was home to me for most of my youth. Then came that one year—the hardest year for me— the year I was “uprooted” from everything familiar and dragged to Commerce, Texas. I was in seventh grade with acne and bad hair! My mother was working on her doctorate in psychology and had to spend a year in residency at East Texas State University. I thought I had died and gone to hell!

We moved back to Longview when her year was over, and somehow I survived. I stayed there until I graduated from Longview High School in 1974.

High school was such a happy time for me. When you were a girl growing up in East Texas in the 1970s, all you wanted to do was be on Drill Team, like the famed Rangerettes at Kilgore College. It was THE thing to do. I loved it, I lived for it, and I would not trade those years for anything. When my mother accepted a position as Chairman of the Special Education Department at ETSU, she had to move back to Commerce. Since it was my senior year, she made what I am sure was one of the

hardest decisions she ever made. She allowed me to stay in Longview with my best friend, Kim Caton, and her family. It was such a gift to me. She came home every weekend she could and tried not to miss my performances. I love her so much for that.

I also remember the changes that came with integration. We had attended segregated schools and were somewhat insulated from the social issues of the day. We were raised by parents, and especially by a grandmother, who saw no color. They had friends and co-workers who were Black. Blanche took care of Chris and me as children, and her husband, Bill, took care of our yard. We loved them, and they loved us. I was shocked by the hatred and division that began to emerge between the races. I saw and experienced things that were difficult to understand as a young girl. There were times when our schools and buses became targets of anger and violence simply because we were beginning to integrate. I wasn’t scared as much as I was angry and confused. Those experiences reinforced the lesson I had been raised with: Do not judge someone else by the way they look or the color of their skin.

I wish I could say my college years were great, but they weren’t. I went to SFA my freshman year and decided I was a “hippie.” The Vietnam War was coming to a close, and I related to the “make love, not war” philosophy. I spent lots of time playing my guitar and singing Joni Mitchell and Simon & Garfunkel. I decided college wasn’t for me and dropped out! My mother was LIVID! Thank God for Jim Jeter and my Uncle Paul Pepper, who reassured her that I just needed some time and space. Mom said I was “finding myself.” I’m not sure I found myself, but I did realize that a below-minimum-wage job with an ophthalmologist in downtown Dallas was not what I wanted for my future. Four months later, I was back in college. That is where adult life really began for me. I took a practicum strongly recommended by my mother, working with children and young adults with special needs. I was assigned to Mark. Let’s just say that class and Mark changed my life. Seeing the progress he made in just a few months was exhilarating. Now I knew what I wanted to do for the rest of my life: teach children with special needs. I graduated from East Texas State University in December 1977 and moved to Lubbock. While taking classes and substituting at Lubbock State School, I was offered a full-time teaching job at Ballenger. It was a God thing, no doubt! It was a school designed for K–12 students with special needs, and it was my DREAM JOB. The philosophy was simple: no matter the level, ability, or limitations, there was SOMETHING everyone could do and a way for them to contribute. That became my mantra throughout my 31 years in the classroom.

In 1983, Don and I moved to Commerce, his hometown. I taught in Greenville until 1995, when we divorced. My next job was at Rockwall High School. I loved, loved, loved that place. I made lifelong friends and have many wonderful memories. I told my students that once they graduated, they could call me “Missy.” I still keep in touch with many of them. The most wonderful, incredible, life-changing event happened on September 24, 1988. Joshua Blake Dyer was born, all 9 pounds, 10 ounces and 21 inches of him. His head was HUGE! I understand now that was because he is so very smart. His heart is HUGE, too, and he grew into such a fine son, man, husband, and father. I could not be more proud! Then came Mike. I met Donny Michael “Mike” Patterson in the most unexpected way. I had taken my Rockwall High School students to a new job-training site at Home Depot. While we were touring the store, I spotted

this incredibly handsome man watching us—or “me.” I was immediately attracted to him. The next day, the assistant manager asked if I was single. When I said yes, she told me two men had seen me the day before and wanted my number. After laughing, I asked, “Two? If it were YOU picking, which one would you go for?” She said, “Mike. Definitely Mike!ˮ So I gave her my number. We talked on the phone and decided to meet on Valentine’s Day 1999. No pressure, right? It was fun and lighthearted, and I was smitten. It turns out he was, too. The following weekend I went to Austin

with my friend Kim and told her, “I’m going to marry him!ˮ My friends and family were shocked by our short courtship, but everyone agreed we made a good match. On July 9, 1999, we were married on what felt like the hottest day of the century. We were outdoors at a gazebo, the cicadas sang us a love song, and sweat rolled down our faces. Blake walked me down the aisle, and Mike’s three children were our attendants. It was perfect—especially the airconditioned house where the reception was held! Along with Mike came three wonderful children: Holly Marie, Ashley Janee, and Brandon Dirk.

I never really had “hobbies.” I had things I LOVED to do: travel, dance, golf, and volunteer with Special Olympics. I began working with Special Olympics in 1978 as part of my first teaching job. Over the years, I specialized in track and field and gymnastics and also coached aquatics, bowling, volleyball, and basketball. I spent more than 40 years helping organize and run events locally and statewide. I traveled to five International Games and met many wonderful people along the way. One of my favorite memories was a dinner where I was seated at the same table as Eunice Kennedy Shriver, the founder of Special Olympics. She asked what I did for a living. When I told her I was a Special Education teacher and volunteered with Special Olympics, she smiled and said, “What a wonderful hobby you have found!” She was right. I have loved the athletes, the sports, the opportunities, and especially the lifelong friendships. But nothing made me happier than working an event with my family by my side. They gave their time and energy because they loved me, but they also came to understand the importance of giving to a group that might otherwise not have the opportunity to compete in sports. As the Special Olympics creed states:

“Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.”

I have been blessed with a life full of people I loved, work that mattered to me, family that brought me joy, and more adventures than I could have imagined. I loved life. I loved people. I loved serving others. And I tried to live with the spirit Jesus describes in Matthew 5:5–10: to be meek, merciful, pure in heart, a peacemaker, and faithful even when life was difficult.

What a life it has been.