Beatrice Wilson

Canton – Nola Beatrice Scott Wilson, 82, devoted wife and loving mother, passed peacefully and comfortably into God’s caring hands on Tuesday, August 18, 2020.

Beatrice was a native and near life-long resident of Canton. She was born on December 23, 1937, daughter of the late Nolan Ray and Ruth Lowe Scott. In addition to her parents, she was preceded in passing by her husband and childhood sweet-heart, Charles Everett Wilson, who died July 19, 1995 and by her younger brother, Douglas Ray Scott, who died April 3, 1987.  Beatrice has two living sisters, Mary Jo Scott Waldrop and Linda Carol Scott McCracken, both of Canton.

She is survived by her two sons, Charles Barry Wilson, of Mooresville, NC, and David Michael Wilson of Charleston, SC.  Beatrice has four living grandchildren, Whitney Nicole Wilson Huryta, Hunter Scott Wilson, Michael Alexander Wilson and Jenna Marie Wilson.

Beatrice’s life was a testament to selflessness and sacrifice for those she loved. She took great joy in caring for others, especially her husband, her children and grandchildren. From modest beginnings, Beatrice and Charles strove and lived to fulfill their version of the American Dream, to provide their children, and future generations, a better life by instilling the value of hard work, education, and generosity to others.  While compassionate to the core, she exhibited a fierce resolve, was protective of those she loved, and was always willing to speak her mind.

She was a volunteer for Meals on Wheels, Haywood Christian Ministries, and REACH. She was a faithful Christian and a member of the First United Methodist Church of Canton.  She retired from BASF Corporation (formerly American Enka) in 1993 with 26 years of service, though being a homemaker was her passion.

The family will receive friends from 5:00 pm until 6:00 pm on Saturday evening, August 22, 2020 at Wells Funeral Home of Canton. Beatrice will be laid to rest at a graveside service to be held at 1:00 pm on Sunday, August 23, 2020 at Crawford/Ray Memorial Gardens with Reverend Gordon Pike and Reverend Clay Morgan officiating.

In lieu of flowers, memorials may be made to the First United Methodist Church of Canton, P.O. Box 1716, Canton, NC 28716.

Beatrice’s care has been entrusted to Wells Funeral Home and an on-line memorial register is available at “Obituaries” at www.wellsfuneralhome.com.

The following is an eulogy delivered by Michael at his Mom's service today:

Eulogy for Mom

I stand before you this afternoon with a heavy heart. For my brother, Barry, and me, and our families; for our Aunts Mary Jo and Linda, and their families; and for all of you who knew and loved our mother, Beatrice (or perhaps you knew her as “Aunt Bea”, or simply “Bee”), today is a day filled with a sense of great loss. Last Tuesday, August 18th, mom slipped mercifully and peacefully from our hands, from the care of those who loved her so deeply, and into God’s. Today, she is in a better place. So, in a bittersweet way, our spirits are also lifted, because we know in our hearts that today also marks the beginning of a glorious new journey for mom. Finally, after a wait that has been much too long,  mom and dad, who we lost 25 years ago last month, are reunited in Heaven in the presence of God.

I was on an airplane Tuesday evening from Charlotte back to my home in Charleston. For a reason I did not understand then, sometime near 6:00 pm, I started typing a draft of these words on my phone. Twenty minutes or so later, as the plane descended, my phone picked up a signal again and I saw both a missed call and a text from Barry. I knew in that instant mom had passed. As it turned out, just about 6:00 pm.  Sometimes it is hard to believe in things you cannot see. And then there are those powerful moments when you know connection goes beyond the physical world.

Neither mom nor dad ever feared death. They were always comforted both by their faith in God and by a somewhat fatalistic view that, well, “when it is your time to go; it is your time to go”.  I heard them both repeat that often as a child. Yet, I know in my heart that when dad passed, he refused to slip away before I made it home that day from Chicago in 1995. I was the last of family to arrive. We had our moment. A couple of hours later, he slipped into a sleep from which he never awoke.

Similarly, last Friday, Barry and I were with mom following a medical procedure.  That morning, despite her physical weakness, the lingering fog of the anesthesia from the day before, and the ravages of Alzheimer’s, which had accelerated over the last few months due to the isolation required by the coronavirus, mom fought through it all, determined to ensure that we knew — that she knew — we were there.  At the end of our visit, we said, “We love you, mom”, and she replied, “I love you, too”. Those were the only words she really spoke that morning with clarity. Those were the last words we ever heard her speak. They couldn’t have been more perfect.

Still, I think she refused to go. God was calling, but she wasn’t quite ready yet. Then, on Monday, a similar scene played out, when her sisters, our Aunts Mary Jo and Linda, were allowed to visit her. Though her physical condition had deteriorated further, through a squeeze of their hands, she told them, loudly, clearly, “I am here. I know you love me.  And I love you.”

So, while God chooses the time to call us all home, I am convinced that one of two things must be true. Either it’s sometimes possible, through will and determination, to hold him off for just awhile, or he knows just what we need.

Mom was an incredibly compassionate woman. She lived her life in love and in service to Dad, Barry and me, and later her grandchildren —- Whitney, Hunter, Alex and Jenna —- and to all of those around her. That side of mom came from her mother, Ruth Scott, an angel of a woman if there ever was one.

Yet, there was an incredible strength and fierce resolve to mom, and even a bit of temper. We lovingly refer to that as the “Pawpaw Scott in her”, from her father Nolan. He was never afraid to speak his mind, nor was she.

Mom was born on December 23, 1937. She would have been 83 this year. She was both born and reared here in Canton, and spent all but a brief portion of her life in this town. She was proud to be from Canton and of her heritage, though she never hesitated to criticize town management. She got her “politics” from Pappaw, too.

We recently came across a short autobiography mom had left for us about her early years.  As a child, she was a self-proclaimed ‘tomboy”. While I’m sure there was plenty of “sugar and spice”, from the stories we have heard, I think maybe she was a bit of an imp, too.  She felt a guardian angel must have been looking over her from an early age.  Some of her stories of near-death childhood experiences read like they are out of a Mark Twain novel, or perhaps Lemony Snicket’s, “A Series of Unfortunate Events.”  There was the incident with Popeye and Whimpy, the two roosters they had as a child; the slippery washtub and near-drowning story; being almost crushing by a wooden planter along with her cousin, Sandra; a bicycle incident — and, well, the list goes on.

Her fondest childhood memories were hot dog roasts, playing “ball”, and playing games with neighborhood friends like: “Red Rover, Red Rover”, Hide and Seek, and Hop Scotch. She spoke fondly of the old Strand and Colonial theaters.  It cost 9 cents at the time to see a movie and she would often sit through a double-feature.

Mom and dad were high school sweethearts. They “courted” by walking to the movies, hanging out at the YMCA, and occasionally having a “big” evening out when dad was able borrow his older brother’s car.  Of course, he had to spend the day washing it and waxing it first. Mom and dad eventually eloped to get married. I’ve seen the marriage certificate.  It says she was eighteen.  The facts, and the family lore, seem to support sixteen.  Like I said, not all sugar and spice.

Shortly after being married, dad enlisted in the Air Force, while mom stayed in Canton to finish high school.  They both were from modest beginnings, working class families, but over the course of almost 40 years together, they went on to live their version of the American Dream.  Building a home and life in which they were able to give more richly to their children than the life they ever knew. They succeeded beyond their imagination.

Everything that I am today, at least that is good, and everything I have achieved is a testament to my parents. We never had all the material things in life — though they certainly strove to give us all they could — but we had all of the important things: love, education, and support of our dreams. And, however often it was said, we never said “I love you” nor “thank you” enough.  It wouldn’t have been possible; we were given so much.

We have lost our mom’s, our sister’s, our mammaw’s, our friend’s physical presence from our lives, but we will never lose her—her love, her influence, or her memory for as long as we live.  Our family chain has been broken. But as God calls us one by one, that chain will be linked once again.

We would like to thank those who gave love and care to mom over the past few years.  There are many, but in particular, Mary and Jesse Wines, and Melanie Steward.  We will forever be grateful for the assistance, comfort, and joy you brought to mom but, most importantly, for how you brought her into your hearts.

Mom, you were the best. And, until we see you again, please know we love you and miss you terribly, but are so grateful you have made your way to God, and back to Dad again.

May you rest in eternal peace.