Leota Warnick

My Nanny was the greatest. She helped raise me while my mom worked, and I’ll be honest — I did not make her life easy. I was a handful, the kind of kid who never sat still and always had some new way to test her patience. But she never acted like I was too much. She just loved me harder and kept showing up for me. Nan taught me the stuff that actually matters: respect your elders, treat people the way you want to be treated, and remember that kindness isn’t optional — it’s who you are. She didn’t just talk about those things; she lived them. She’s also the one who gave me my passion for cooking. (We all know that didn’t come from my mom.) Nan taught me to cook by taste — a pinch of this, a dash of that — and that’s still how I do it. Every time I’m in the kitchen, she’s right there with me. Nanny was the most amazing woman, and I’m so grateful I got to be hers. Her last words to me were, “Keep being good. I love you.” I will, Nan. I promise. And just so everyone’s clear — and yes, I’m officially going on record — I was the favorite grandson. No need to fact check that. Charlie

I'm writing this as I'm standing in line at your viewing. Whew boy... what a day Nan. I can remember standing in this exact line with you for paps. You would squeeze my hand so hard it would tingle and tell me I needed to be strong. Now I find myself in this exact spot telling myself the same thing. I will miss our long talks at the dining table drinking pots of coffee, thanks for that addiction by the way. I was always fascinated by the stories of the past with you and pap, and how things used to be. One day we will have those talks again but until then …. I'll see you later Nan. Phillip

As her children, the four of us were so blessed to have her as our mom. And even though our oldest brother, Cliff, passed away three years ago, he is still very much a part of us. He was an amazing big brother — the kind who would give you the shirt off his back — and we love and miss him deeply. We would be remiss not to include him here, especially since he was always Mom’s favorite child. She is shaking her finger at us for that comment and saying that is not true - I love you all the same. ​ Our Momma loved with her whole heart, and family meant everything to her — especially her grandsons, who were the light of her life. She was the glue that held all of us together, the steady center we could always return to. She greeted everyone she met with a smile and a warm hug, and she carried a stubborn streak that made us laugh and a frugality that became one of her most endearing quirks. She was ours, and we were hers, and we will forever be grateful for the love she poured into our lives. SHIRLEY’S TRIBUTE: Momma loved with her whole heart, and she showed that love in the most practical, generous ways. I never owned a storebought dress until I started working at the bank, and even then she kept sewing my clothes because she could tailor them exactly to what I liked. She also made my wedding gown. When I mentioned I didn’t have enough gowns for our first choral production, she didn’t hesitate — she just started sewing. She donated all the fabric and all the labor, and by the end she had made more than eighty costumes. That was who she was: talented, giving, and always ready to step in when her family needed her. Her love extended to her grandchildren, too. Jeremy, our firstborn, had multiple surgeries as a baby. When he spent over a month at Johns Hopkins in Baltimore, Mom and my brother Paul stayed in a camper in the parking lot so I wouldn’t be alone. She didn’t just support us — she stood beside us, no matter how hard the road was. And she fed people with that same love. One of Josh’s friends told me just yesterday how much he loved going to Gram’s house because the food was always so good — especially her pancakes. Someone who camped with Mom and Dad once said the same thing. Mom’s secret was simple: sprinkle a little sugar in the batter. It worked every time. In these last months, the three of us kids took turns bringing her meals. I could never get my fried potatoes to taste like hers until she finally told me the trick: “When they’re almost done, turn the heat off, sprinkle a little sugar all over, put the lid on, and let them steam.” She was right. I can finally make Mom’s fried potatoes. I’ll never master all her recipes, but I’m sure many of them involved that same little sprinkle of sugar — just like her life did. She also knew how to have fun. Camping trips were full of laughter, including the time she and William had a fullon water fight at a place called the Funny Farm. She thought she’d won until he unhooked the water line and sprayed her through the camper window. She laughed just as hard as the rest of us. Her last big adventure was only a few years ago, at age ninetytwo, when she flew to Arizona to visit Josh and Andrea. They took her to the Grand Canyon — a trip she talked about for the rest of her life. Ninety-nine years was not long enough. This morning I thought of something I wanted to tell her, and the ache of that moment reminded me of what she taught us simply by living: enjoy every day with your loved ones, because time is a gift. PAUL’S TRIBUTE: During the summer right after I graduated from Southern, I worked as a camp counselor at Camp Hickory. I saved every penny that summer and when Camp closed I went to Radio Shack and spent all my money on a Radio Shack Color Computer. Mom was SOOOO mad at me for doing that. You have to understand that mom grew up in the Great Depression and, to her, spending all my money on something like that was inconceivable. That purchase turned out to be the launching point for my 32-year career as a software engineer. Years later she told me that maybe that money was well spent after all. Mom and dad watched our oldest son after he was born while Pam and I worked. One evening, when Phillip was about three years old, we went to pick him up after work. He was sitting in mom’s lap with dad beside her at the dining room table. Phillip was grinning from ear to ear as he repeatedly dunked pieces of buttered bread into mom’s coffee and then ate them. Now, when we were kids, mom would not let us have coffee because it would ‘stunt our growth’. Imagine my surprise to see my son enjoying coffee and mom giving it to him! Mom looked up and told us “It’s just a little coffee – mostly milk”. Right Mom. About two weeks later Pam, Phillip and I were having dinner at Uno’s with a close friend. Dinner was mostly over and Phillip was still finishing his meal. Our friend, Bob, ordered a coffee to finish his meal. Imagine my horror when Phillip takes his buttered bread and dunks it in Bob’s coffee. Bob smiled, drank some more coffee, and continued the conversation like nothing had happened. We explained to him what mom and dad had been doing with buttered bread and he laughed. All I could think at the time was “Thanks Mom!!!!”. JULIE’S TRIBUTE: Growing up, Momma always believed that money was never to be wasted. Every penny was hard earned. All my clothes were hand sewn, each one with a little “Made with Love by Mom” label stitched inside. I never complained; they were always stylish and beautiful. She would literally go to store windows, sketch the outfits she saw, and then go home and make them for me. She kept that up until I was in middle school. She was so talented. And we never went to a beauty salon — that was not necessary. She was more than capable of taking care of those things herself. One memory I’ll never forget happened when I was in 7th grade and Mom decided I needed a perm. And when Momma decided something, that was that. She rolled my shoulder length hair onto the tiniest rollers imaginable — it took forever, but she was patient and determined. Then came the stinky perm solution, the saran wrap, and the command to “sit still” for what felt like an eternity. After an hour, the kitchen timer finally rang, and she washed everything out. It was late, so off to bed I went. The next morning… well, it was not good. My hair was a kinky, curly, frizzy hot mess. I burst into tears and begged to stay home from school. But Mom, being Mom, just said, “Oh stop, it looks fine. It just needs a few days to calm down.” Off to school I went — and the teasing from my classmates about my “afro” hair – oh my. Needless to say, I NEVER let her give me another perm again. Momma was our biggest supporter. Through every season of our lives — the joys, the heartbreaks, the moments when we didn’t know how we would make it through — Momma was the one who stood beside us. She gave advice when we needed direction, quoted scripture when we needed grounding, prayed for us when we didn’t have the strength to pray for ourselves, and loved us with a steady, unconditional love that never wavered. We are beyond blessed to have had such an amazing Momma. And while our hearts ache with the weight of losing her, we take comfort in knowing exactly where she is. We can picture her now, strolling down the streets of gold, holding Daddy’s hand, catching up with Cliff and Ruth, without any pain and finally home. This is not goodbye — just a brief farewell. One day, we will see you again. Until then, we carry your love with us in everything we do. We love you beyond words. Thank you for being our Momma! Cliff, Shirley, Paul & Julie