My mother, Eliza Mae Bradley (nee Lawhorn) of West Union, Ohio and previously of Toledo, Ohio, was reunited with my father in eternal rest with our Lord Jesus on Tuesday, July 8th, 2025. She was, simply, the anchor who kept me grounded in life and who taught me to walk softly but carry a big stick. As you would expect from a southern soul, she was sweet, gracious, and kind to all who met her; however, she showed her spicy side if you messed with her or her family. She was a perfect combination of hellfire and holy water. She was a quiet and gentle woman with a silent strength that carried her through many of her life’s unkindnesses. She enjoyed music (especially country and old-time gospel), was an avid General Hospital fan, preferred living a quiet and simple small-town life, thought Aaron Rodgers was the cutest Quarterback that ever lived, and – according to the neighborhood kids at the time – was the best chocolate chip cookie maker the East Toledo/Garfield neighborhood ever had.
Mom was born on August 27, 1938 in Carter County, Kentucky, as one of eight children born of Mickel Lawhorn and Sophie Lawhorn (nee Parker). Mom was raised in the Highland Bend neighborhood of Portsmouth, Ohio, attending Portsmouth East High School. As a teenager and young adult in the 1950s, she broke gender stereotypes of the day by refusing to live any other way than what made her happy: at sixteen, she chopped off her long hair, lit a cigarette, threw off her skirt in favor of pants and never looked back. For her wedding she parted ways with the traditional white wedding gown in favor of a pale blue cocktail dress. She challenged the religious south’s gender ideals and defied her ordained father-in-law by walking hand in hand into his church with her only child – a daughter, me – both of us in slacks.
She met my dad as a young woman of 20 years of age. My grandmother took a shine to the son of the guest preacher in her little country church, and a plot was formed. My grandmother extended to him an invitation to her home for a bologna sandwich and, there, introductions were made. My mother and father married on April 16, 1960, and they remained each other’s best friend, confidant, and companion until my father’s death on July 16, 2023.
Mom built her home and cared for her little family in Toledo, Ohio where my dad gained employment with General Motors. For every working day of the thirty-two years my dad was employed, he asked for – and she made – the same paper bag lunch, which always included a bologna sandwich. Mom’s porch was a place where all the neighborhood kids wanted to hang; she welcomed every kid with equal enthusiasm and treated each as if he/she were her own. She became a safe haven and extended her home to several of my friends who needed refuge when their own family dynamics were facing difficulty. Never judging, always welcoming. They all loved her equally; when one brought beer onto her porch, another poured it out, stating “we do not disrespect Miss Eliza’s house rules.”
Mom returned to her Appalachian roots in the mid-1990s, settling in West Union, Ohio with my dad, on a 20-acre property that they both meticulously cared for, maintained, and loved.
Mom preferred to be behind the scenes versus in the spotlight and lovingly encouraged and supported my dad in his post-retirement artistic career and, along with my dad, became active in both the Southern Hills and Adams County Arts Councils.
Left to cherish mom’s memory is her only living child, me (Sheila Marie Bradley); sister Barbara Dalton of Florida; cherished cousin Bessie Mae (nee Lee) and Gary DeHart of Flemingsburg, KY; special niece Edwina Buron of Ohio; many other nieces, nephews and friends; and lastly, Teddy, the orneriest Yorkie this side of the Mississippi. She is preceded in death by her husband, Oscar H. Bradley, Jr.; her parents and parents-in-law; brothers Robert, Sherman, Stanley, and Charles Lawhorn; sisters Esther Cummings and Darlene Lawhorn; an infant son lost in-utero in July 1962, and beloved pet Lila.
As per my mom’s wishes, there will be no formal visitation or memorial services. Her cremated remains will be joined with that of my father’s and their very last wish was to have what is left of their bodies returned to the Appalachia foothills they both so loved.
If you should choose to honor my mom’s life and legacy in some manner, either a donation to the Adams County Arts Council, P.O. Box 38, West Union, Ohio 45693, a donation to any animal rescue, or having a tree planted in any of our nation’s national parks and forests would be a loving and fitting tribute.
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