Mary Frances Elliott

The words above reflect the final chapter of my mother’s life--a woman who faced life’s battles with courage, walked her path with grace, reached the crossroads of her journey, and was deeply loved. She was a source of wisdom, always ready with sound advice and a steady heart. But mama had come to the end of her journey. She was weary, she was hurting, and she no longer felt at home in her body-it had grown old, unfamiliar, and beyond her control.

My mother was a woman of quiet strength and boundless love. Even in her final days, she remained true to her nature--more concerned about me than herself. She didn’t want her struggles to weigh on my shoulders. She wanted me to be free, to live fully, and not be tethered by her pain. That was her gift to me: the freedom to live a life unbound.

Though her body had grown tired and unfamiliar, her spirit never wavered. She held fast to her faith, speaking softly to God in the stillness, asking to be carried gently into the night. She was ready to go home.

And yet, I wasn’t ready to let her go. I told her I was there to help carry the weight, to make sure her final days were filled with comfort and love--because we had each other. I needed her to stay just a little longer. She was all I had.

Her love was selfless. Her faith was unwavering. Her legacy lives on in the life she wanted me to live.

Nestled on a 25-acre stretch off Old Iron Workers Road in Montgomery County, the Elliott family farm stood as a testament to resilience and legacy. For 144 years, this thriving land--once owned by formerly enslaved individuals-yielded corn, tobacco, hay, and a variety of grains and vegetables that nourished a large family and sustained generations. It was more than a farm, it was a symbol of perseverance, pride, and deep-rooted heritage.

Mary Frances Elliott entered this life on Thursday, September 21, 1939 on the family farm in the Shady Grove community of Montgomery County, Tennessee, the cherished eldest daughter of Roosevelt Elliott and Elizabeth Head Elliott.

On Labor Day, September 1, 2025, she passed away peacefully in Nashville, Tennessee, in an unexpected farewell that left a quiet ache in the hearts of those who loved her. Her memory will remain a lasting treasure to all who knew her, a legacy of love, strength, and wisdom.

Mary Frances Elliott completed her final school years at Burt Hight School in Clarksville, Tennessee in 1958--a cornerstone for Black students in Montgomery and surrounding counties from 1923 to 1970. The school was named in honor of Dr. Robert T. Burt, a pioneering Black physician who made history as the first in Clarksville to establish a hospital for the Black community. Her time there was shaped by a legacy of lasting friendships and community pride.

Like many young people, she was eager to explore what lay beyond the boundaries of Clarksville, Tennessee. Her journey led her to Baltimore, Maryland, where she lived with relatives and welcomed the birth of my brother, Fredrick R. Ross. He preceded her in death, and I believe he will be waiting at heaven’s gates--alongside our beloved grandparents--to welcome her home.

Eventually, she returned to Clarksville to raise her son. One year later, I was born--Celester T. Elliott--and I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been born into a family I’ve always believed was the best in the world.

In her pursuit of independence, she left the quiet country hills of Sango and Shady Grove and moved to the city of Clarksville, settling in a neighborhood called Summit Heights. That move opened our eyes to a different world—one full of new experiences and challenges. She made her home there for many years, until I took her to Nashville to live with me, her son.

My mother wore many hats throughout her life. She worked within the school system, earned her cosmetology license, and served with the Housing Authority Organization in Clarksville—where she became a powerful advocate for the residents and was honored with numerous awards for her efforts. But above all, her most important job was being a mother.

She made sure my brother and I always had food on the table, a safe home to grow in, and clothes that were clean and kept us feeling confident and current. Despite any hardships, I never felt poor—we always had what we needed, and more importantly, we felt loved.

The strength she carried came from the foundation laid by my grandparents, who taught us to press forward in the face of adversity. My mother embodied that strength every single day.

She is lovingly survived and celebrated by a devoted family: her son, Celester T. Elliott; her sister, Janey Kinston, and nephew, Derwin Dewayne Kinston, Sr., (Dee); her daughters: Kim, Yvonne and Anjanette Kinston; her nieces: Ovetha Elliott and Uleda Slayden; her grandchildren: Markus Elliott, Fredrick Ross, Mary Ross and Kenneth Ross; her great-grandchild, Maddox and to the many other cherished relatives whose name I may not have mentioned—you are deeply in my thoughts and forever in my heart. She was lovingly preceded in death by her dear brothers, Thomas and Emmet Elliott (Valice).

Those final days, my mother shared with me a story of a woman who had been visiting her every night for the past four weeks. I asked Mama if she was afraid of the woman, but she said no—the lady just stood quietly at the foot of the bed. Curious, I asked my mother why the woman was standing silently at the foot of the bed remained invisible to me, and she said she doesn’t want you to see her since she isn’t here for you. I felt no fear and no chills ran through me, but I believed what she saw. She was there to lead her home.