Teresa Hughes Obituary On August 7, 1956, in Fort Benning, Georgia, a little girl was born to Betty and Dr. Noel Williams Jr. She was given the name Teresa Lee. Their family was complete now that their son, Noel, had a little sister. From the beginning it was clear she was like a butterfly, with wings unlike any other, ready to spread and carry her far and wide. Like butterflies do, she captured the interest and attention from everyone who saw her, and to know her was to fall in love with her. Though unlike a butterfly, she wasn't delicate. She was strong in spirit, will and determination. After all, she came from a long line of women whose blood, sweat and tears formed her resilient heart to carry her determined spirit. She grew up in a world that was changing. The music she loved had a different message from the decade before. It spoke of love and peace. It screamed that weapons should be silenced, and voices used to be heard instead. She saw the injustice of the separation of color, realizing how beautiful the world could be if there was no divide. She was among the millions who heard the dream of one man, and was determined to be part of the solution. She watched the first man walk on the moon, and believed soon a woman would follow, knowing it was a woman who made it possible for that man to take the first steps. She saw that love did not exist between only a man and a woman, but between anyone who found their beloved in a soul that completed their own. She learned not to hold these values secret, but to voice them so that others who might need to hear them might see the same world she imagined. To voice them so that others who wanted that world realized knew they had one more friend to make it happen. She experienced love by adoring her family. Her father, Noel, adored his little Teresa, and she adored him more. Her mother, Betty, knew she had created a butterfly, guarding against those wings from ever being clipped while her daughter learned what it meant to be a woman in a new world. Her brother Noel had a little sister to protect, and she simply adored him wanting to be the one to protect him. She knew what it was like to be in love. Though she was fiercely independent, that her love had to be set free. It was from that love that she experienced the greatest of them all by becoming a mother to Melissa Bond, and finally a grandmother to Timothy Bond. College educated, she was a successful businesswoman. She owned and operated Caprock Laboratories, creating dental prosthetics for dentists across the country. She worked tirelessly for her father as an office assistant for much of his dental career in Lubbock. She had an artistic eye, creating beautiful pieces of jewelry for people around the world in her free time when she wasn't seeing the rest of the world with her family. She chased storms with her daughter in the 90's, mesmerized by nature's beauty and force, volunteering in disaster relief efforts when nature turned devastating. She worked with many humanitarian projects, including missions to villages in Mexico with her family. Family was important to her. Most important to her was her daughter and grandson, who were never apart from her. She sacrificed it all for them to live in the world she imagined, and when her mother, Betty Lee, passed away from a brave fight with cancer in 1996, she would begin to reveal just how selfless she was. Soon after her mother's passing, her daughter became ill, and eventually was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and a genetic spinal defect. At the same time, Teresa knew that her health too was in jeopardy, but tried to overcome it in order to care for her daughter and young grandson. Secrets never last long between a mother and a daughter who are each other's best friend. At the same time her daughter fell ill in 2004, Teresa learned she had an aggressive form of breast cancer. She underwent a double mastectomy to remove the malignant tissue, leaving behind a mass that was thought to be benign. She suffered greatly through infections from the initial operation, but it was when she was finally released from the hospital that she learned she also was to face much more. Chemotherapy and radiation ravaged her body, uncovering the reality she also suffered from the same genetic spinal condition her daughter was diagnosed with, as well as the likelihood of multiple sclerosis. Treatment only worsened her health, as rheumatoid arthritis moved in. Though it was not enough to stop her. Teresa, her daughter, Melissa, and her young grandson, Timothy, remained together. They lived for each other. They were never apart; even when one was in the hospital, the other was right by their side. Every doctor and nurse that treated them has stories they love to share. If one didn't think the other was getting the best care, the others would move mountains to change it. Their laughter and humor charged the air, and their fight to live life to the fullest astounded those who knew their fight. They finished the other's sentences, even when words weren't being spoken. When one was scared, the others chased away the fear. Teresa accomplished a lifetime of spectacular things. She worked with her daughter in many photography projects, and her excellent eye for art is responsible for her daughter's accomplishments in her work in fine art. She was a screenwriter, working on many independent film projects with her daughter and grandson. She also used her skill from many years of editing jobs to work with her daughter in writing several books, including the Sweet Lucidity series and Don't Touch the Butterflies. Just prior to her passing, she started a business with her daughter in creating art including miniatures. She loved reading, especially horror novels. She loved watching movies of all kinds, especially horror movies. She was admired for her skill in gardening, which she learned from her mother and grandmother. While she was "Meme" to her daughter and grandson, she was "Mom" to everyone she took under her wing. She studied every religion, and found respect for them all. After all, it was not her place to say what others should believe, and didn't put up with others telling her what to believe. Politics engaged her interest, and although she didn't get to vote for the first female president, she was proud to vote for the first black president. Though you wouldn't want to get her started on what needed to be fixed. All of this was who she was after she was diagnosed with cancer. It was the benign mass that was left inside her that started the last chapter of her life to be written. She knew there was something wrong, even though the doctors didn't seem to. It was her daughter that told her to use her voice. It was her grandson that made them listen to her. That benign mass wasn't benign after all. It had grown over her heart for over a decade, settling into her sternum, reaching its arms around her heart. You would think that would have stopped her laughter then. Instead, it made it louder. Doctors and nurses tried to erase the damage done with changing her medication and ordering daily doses of radiation. There was a sudden urgency in their voice, a hesitation to say that she had more time. She tried to tell her family the truth, but it came with laughter and plans for the future that made it seem not so urgent. After all, she was planning the cake she was going to make for her daughter's birthday. She was looking forward to a day out to see the premiere of Jurassic World and an evening playing bingo after dinner at a new steakhouse to celebrate the day she became a mother. It was also going to be a celebration of her final day of radiation since the tumor was shrinking. She ordered a birthday gift for her daughter, spent the afternoon with her grandson. When she returned, she approved the latest creations made for the business she made with her daughter, and was too weak to do anything more. She asked what would be for dinner, pleased with the choice of lasagna and her favorite garlic bread. She listened to her daughter to put her feet up and take a nap, while her grandson tended to her garden. She then fell asleep, with her beloved cat curled in her lap. It was during that much deserved rest she passed peacefully. She was at home, in a place she loved, with the daughter and grandson she lived for the most. She granted the wish her daughter and grandson wished for every year, a cure for her cancer and all the damage it had done. For her, there was no goodbye. No, she had found she had finished what she was meant to do. She taught her daughter everything she knew about life, and how to continue the fight. She taught her grandson everything she knew how a man needed to be in the world she no longer had to imagine. For the rest of the family, she left her love in her legacy. For everyone else who she cared for, there were so many. She never knew a stranger, there was just no such thing, but for them she left memories, ones that bring laughter amid their tears. She promised she wouldn't be far as she awaits her next adventure. She believed there was a purpose in how we all connected. She said, "Look for the butterfly in my garden, and you will know I'm there." Until those she loved are finished too. Then it will all start again with new lessons and triumphs, new worlds to imagine, new stories to write and to share.