Memory by Julie Markham

The first Sunday our little family attended church in Morristown in 1980, my husband and Bruce caught a glimpse of each other. After the meeting, they stood face to face, thought for a second of why their faces looked familiar. Suddenly they both said, pointing at each other, “Elder!” They had known each other while missionaries in Japan, and that was the beginning of a long friendship between our two families. Even though your family lived in Mendham and we lived in Gillette, we occasionally got together and shared family home evenings. The first thing that struck me about Tamera was that she was such a pure, kind person. She was very interested in healthy foods and vitamins, and as I got to know her better she told me she had MS and needed to take good care of herself so she could raise her children. I was inspired. I wondered if it would take a serious diagnosis before I started taking better care of myself. I loved watching Tamera care for Amanda and helping her behave in church. Tamera obviously loved Amanda and was so kind and gentle with her.

Five years later, in 1985, as we were leaving Gillette, Tamera told me her doctor had recently told her that her disease was progressing and that within ten years she’d be in a wheelchair. I simply didn’t believe her. Her health was better than mine was. She was energetic, healthy, vivacious, and besides, she had six children! She would never be in a wheelchair. In 1994, our family moved back to the Morristown area. My first Sunday at church I was welcomed by women I had grown to love nine years earlier. Tamera was one who greeted me, but she did not run and give me a hug. I ran to give her a hug, as she was in the back of the chapel in a wheelchair. I was stunned. How could this have happened? At that point, the MS had progressed to the point that Tamera did not have control over what she said. It appeared to me that what she thought is what came out of her mouth. I, for one, am glad people don’t always know what I am thinking, but for Tamera, this did not seem to be a problem. In Sunday School, Tamera’s thoughts came out in the form of the kindest words, such as, “Now, that was a nice comment,” or, “Isn’t the teacher well-prepared today.” She was still a pure, kind person. By this time Amanda was an adult. It was she who sat next to her mother and cared for her, gently putting her finger to her lips and reminding her to be quiet.