Gwendolen Fae Jenkins Burnside

A memorial service will be held at 2:00 p.m. Friday, February 11, at Hanes Lineberry North Elm Chapel, 515 North Elm Street, with an inurnment to follow at Green Hill Cemetery, 901 Wharton Street.

Gwen was born February 6, 1926, in Farmington Connecticut, daughter of the late Kenneth and Nina Jenkins. She was a graduate of Simsbury High School and Hartford Hospital Nursing School.

She married David Scott Burnside, Jr. in 1947. Gwen had four children: Brian Scott Burnside, born in 1948, Robert Michael Burnside, born in 1949, Sharon Lynn Burnside, born in 1956, and Anne Elizabeth Burnside, born in 1964.

In addition to her parents, Gwen was preceded in death by her husband, David Scott Burnside, Jr., her son Brian Scott Burnside and her daughter Sharon Lynn Burnside Wadler.

Those left to cherish her memory are her children, Robert M. Burnside of Milan, Italy, Anne Burnside Bristow of Reidsville, NC; and her sister, Nelga Jenkins Dinerstein of Campobello, SC. Her grandchildren were always of delight to her, Bruce, Benjamin, Makennah, Nicholas, Brianna, Zachariah, Savannah, Benjamin, and Macallister. And she delighted in her greatgrandchildren, Nader, Gwendolyn (named after her), Greyson, Emmerson, Sophia, David and Alayna.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions may be made in memory of Gwen to Family Service of the Piedmont, 315 East Washington Street, Greensboro, NC 27401.

Fond memories and expressions of sympathy may be shared at www.haneslineberryfhnorthelm.com.

From Grandson, Nicholas S. Bistrow:

To start my story of Grammy, I’d like to begin twenty-some years ago, in the rolling hills and waving fields of corn, wheat, and tobacco that cover the lands of Gibsonville in a sea of calmly rustling fields.

Back then, my sister and I grew up cushioned from the effects of capitalism and industrial progress by the plentiful acres of land we grew up upon. Hidden away back in the woods, our home was momentarily sheltered from the effects of global warming. A secret sanctuary within the woods to call home was a beautiful place indeed; filled with wonder and curiosity.

Our home was only a thousand-pace from Grammy’s; a short walk up the hill and through the fields. There, in her home, could be seen much of Grammy’s personality. She would often be found working just there outside of her home; stooped over in her flowerbeds. Their vibrance, hue, and abundance were breathtaking.

As we grow older I think we can often forget how much larger the world was to us as children. Where once morning glories might have been sprawling vines of green brilliance grasping to life wherever they pleased; filled with tiny black seeds favored by curious finches and chickadees whom startle away the bees lasping at their pollen; they are now withering “weeds'' clinging to chain-link fences and brick walls; an afterthought.

As a young boy clambering up the hill towards Grammy’s house was always rewarding. I was always greeted by flowers higher than my head; with their brilliant colors and sweet smells attracting all sorts of bees, and butterflies in so many colors, shapes, and sizes their variety was innumerable to me. Climbing up the sturdy concrete and brick stairs and pathway offer a welcoming shade in the warmth of spring and summer. Between the bricks of the steps lived nests of prolific and curious lizards and skinks of many shapes and colors. The bountiful ecosystem of an unsmogged world just beneath a flourishing garden bed was a profitable one for these little guys, indeed. I remember Grammy chuckling heartily from just behind me just after I’d stuck my finger in their nest and promptly had a larger skink clamp onto the tip of my index finger. I often recall this memory of the lizard on my finger. In my fear and shock I’d flung him onto a hanging tapestry that marked the season or holiday; often rotated out throughout the year diligently by Grammy. I think of how equally scared the skink must have been; and brave in defending his nest. I also admire how Grammy laughed behind me; for this somehow seemed to say “Well, Now you know, Nick! You’re going to be okay.” Of course after the poor creature and I were free of each other we parted ways, and Grammy planted a kiss upon my uninjured finger.

Grammy would often be found sitting there in a rocking chair, quietly quilting as she watched me and makennah play in the yard. Back then her many quilts and tapestries seemed just as colorful as her prized flowers. When they weren’t being flung upon them by startled children; green anoles (which are also lizards) could be seen hanging out on the colorful tapestries, or on the railings; squinting judgmentally at curious children. Here amongst the lizards, butterflies, birds, quilts, and tapestries, was just an inkling of a view into Grammy’s soul.

She was a furious and prolific decorator; and took great joy in her many framed photos and pieces of art. There was a story behind each one; and she was always happy to recount them with me and teach me about the world, it’s history, and our past. Layered beneath swathes of pastel-colored fabrics and dangling necklaces; Grammy was brimming with knowledge of nature and art. It was always a treat to fall asleep watching Antique Road Show and Bob Ross at Grammy’s house. In the morning, the sound of recorded birds singing from her clock mingled with the sounds of the birds just outside the window next to it.

Grammy’s love for birds, in particular; was phenomenal and deep. Her knowledge of songbirds was vast and expansive beyond even my capabilities today; as someone who even interned working with birds of prey at one point. I never realized it at the time I began working with birds; but Grammy would have been one of the biggest influences on my interest in birds later in my life. Her home was filled with decorations of birds; a truly envious amount. Her collection of knowledge alone was immense; but impressive too was the amount and quality of her nature guide-books and reference materials she kept to teach me and makennah with.

For children growing up in the woods; knowledge of the flora and fauna around them is the very fuel for their creativity, imagination, and progress of maturity. Sadly, sometimes, it can be the deciding factor in their survival as well. Grammy was incredibly smart; but she could also be decisive and reserved, and when she needed to be stern (which was frequent, in my case as a little troublemaker). She was a Nurse: someone who healed everyone around her she could. A person that radiated kindness and compassion even in the most tense situations; and yet she suffered the worst pain you could imagine; time and time again. When I was a child, Grammy never spoke of her son, Brain, who had drowned; or her husband, Dave, taken by cancer. No parent should ever have to see their child die. Atop the loss of her husband; by the time she’d pass away she’d also lose her daughter Sharie to cancer; and yet Grammy was able to harden her resolve. She’d lived through unimaginable turbulence; and yet never spoke to us children about her painful history or past. She shared the beauty of the natural world around us first. She showed us flowers, and birds, and the toads burying themselves in the mud in the basement. Each fall, instead of raking her leaves into a pile she’d first spend hours diligently crafting a maze for me and makennah to explore; spread out upon the ground beneath large, slumbering oaks.

Grammy was radiant and compassionate; and admired the beauty in the world around her despite the turmoils that life might eventually bring each of us. She healed the land and the people around her no matter where she went; either with a green thumb, eloquent discourse, a first aid-kit, or masterfully handcrafted sweets. Even when she had to be stern with me for causing trouble; she’d always immediately be compassionate and loving by the time I’d calmed down and reflected on the situation (and sometimes rewarded me and makennah for having constructive conversations about differences after I’d apologized by having us help her bake cookies before bed). Her sternness, intelligence, and aptitude for conversation and argumentation combined fluidly with her overwhelming amount of cheerfulness, compassion, and love, giving Grammy a capacity for resolving conflict and teaching rambunctious children that is remarkable.

My Grandmother had one of the strongest wills I’ve known; her resolve remaining polished steel against almost Ninety-Six years of collective wars, famines, economic depressions, deaths, and pandemics. Even in the end, in her last days; my last memories of her are filled with her cheerful smile looking up at my mother - the purest ear-to-ear grin I’d seen in an adult for a long time. The kind you only see in babies - those not yet harmed by the eventual tragedies of life and influenced by the deep inflictions of society. She never spoke of tragedies, regret, or pain. She spoke of her family, and how she extends the rest of that radiant will and polished resolve into well wishings and love for the rest of her family that she leaves behind. She never seemed like she was afraid; but instead asked me if I, too, could see Sharie, whom she felt behind the head of her bed; just out of her sight, waiting to show her the way to Brian, Dave, and the rest of our family in Heaven.

I feel great comfort in knowing that Grammy’s last days were spent connected to her spirituality and her family. That she was smiling, and she was ready. I thank her for her time on this earth and in my life; and for all of the beautiful things she has taught me and shared with me. Grammy was an extraordinary human being; and the best Grandmother I could have ever asked for. I hope each of us that were connected to her may hold up that piece of her will; and remember her light; and use it to extend her immeasurable love unto the rest of the world, and one day pass that will down to our children. Near fields blooming full with flowers and aire sung song of a thousand birds; May she rest in peace.