This story began at the beginning. It ended at the end. For the last ten years, Mysti was truly my best friend.
The writing and reading of a eulogy is, above all, the simple and elegant search for small truths, ones that people will recognize. This can be surprisingly hard, to take notice of the smallest, most unpolished details of a life and set them up for us to stare at —in the wonder of recognition.
“She was a fabulous hostess.”
“She was extremely knowledgeable about real estate.”
“She thought out answers before she spoke.”
Those are all things we can agree on upon. But I am not here to tell people what we all agree on. That isn’t telling all! I am here to tell you that Mysti Vee O’Dell’s life was not a small life. It was vast and rich, like the great state of Texas.
When she was 14, she obtained and qualified for an exemption so she could get her drivers license. She was caring for her handicapped grandmother who had multiple sclerosis and she had also landed her first job. Independently, she would drive all the way across Houston to attend Joel Osteen’s father’s church faithfully every weekend.
At McCullogh high school in the Woodlands, TX, Misti was a drum major leading the band and then playing the flute. Not surprisingly she was also the president of the student council.
I was privileged to be able to go through many of her writings and diaries from her life to prepare for today.
Her 1982 diary recounts her fabulous post grad trip to Europe. It is filled with the intimate details of…..The heavenly food she ate. Come on people! This is Mysti O’Dell. She told tales of yummy croissants and rich berry jams, fantastic marmalade-filled crepes, spinach and cream recipes to die for and crunchy little English peas —all those nitty-gritty details are right there in print for everyone to see and that was the raciest it was gonna get.
Many of you know her from the world of real estate, but did you know her talent in real estate began with a tidal wave? In 1985, she purchased 15 rental properties and renovated them completely with that “Mysti touch”. Wisely, she became a real estate agent.
She purchased and remodeled another 15 investment homes for resale, including magnificent. Restoration homes in St Louis (some up to 8000 ft.²). Her love for real estate grew.
Mysti also continued with her decorative touch in and created many custom lamps. So many in fact, that the demand was great enough for her to open her own booth in Canton Texas. By 2003, she aggressively began to open up multiple home interior retail locations in the north Dallas area. She chose Stonebriar mall in Frisco Texas for her flagship store. Elegant Interiors by Mysti was a smashing success and carried the finest of home furnishings.
The real estate bug continue to bite and Mysti’s sales grew at a rapid pace. Her triple threat skills of remodeling, staging and selling made her an excellent choice in a growing market. Mysti was energized and excited about real estate up to the very end of her life.
But I really want to share with you some of her elegant truths. Would you let me?
I want to tell you a few things I learned from Mysti, during three distinct periods over the time I knew her. They’re not periods of years, but of states of being. First her full life. Then her illness. And last, her dying.
FULL LIFE
And her full life, Mysti worked at what she loved. She worked really hard. Every day. That’s incredibly simple, but true. Well here’s my conclusion to that: she played so fast that she could move onto the next event, to enjoy the rest of the day, to expand her enormous energy, to live it all. She was born with just two settings: full throttle, then sleep. Mysti burned the candle at both ends with no regrets. If you ever watched her get a listing ready to go on the market, get the house decorated for Christmas or throw a party, you know what kind of relentless tirelessnworking she did! I would have to say that she gets that from her mother, Rowan. Mysti taught me that when you work hard, do it as if you’re working into Jesus himself, because you are.
She was the opposite of absent-minded. She was so present-minded that she would even lap herself. Meticulous attention to the tiniest of details might describe her. What I learned from Mysti was that the details are demonstrations of love. Whether it was remembering someone’s favorite soda, buying the most yummy sheets and toilet paper for her out of town overnight guests, or having candles lit for your smelling pleasure, it was all a delightful demonstration of her love for you. She had wine glasses, but never drank and not one, but two coffeemakers for her guests and never drank a sip of coffee!
Mysti was humble. She like to keep learning. Currently she was in the middle of some Mel Robbins podcasts ( look Mel Robbins up, you won’t be sorry) and she was still eagerly learning at every stage of her life. It taught me that the older I get, the less I should feel that I know. I know what I don’t know. And it is a lot. Mysti taught me to have a learning agenda.
ILLNESS
Then came to the period when Mysti became ill and we watched her life compress into a smaller circle. Once in that large circle, she loved walking through the streets of Paris. She adored Switzerland. She downhill skiied gracefully each winter in Colorado. She even teetered on high heels in the hot Dallas summer showing property. But no more.
Her circle was compressed now to her living room. For over a year, her friends, her family, and her medical staff were all compressed into the small little space of that world.
She was so grateful for the television that would reach out and bring her to church online. It ushered in continuous praise & worship from Hillsong, Bethel, Elevation and Worship Mob. It even brought Steve Harvey, Family Feud and Hallmark movies to her bedside.
Even her food choices shrank into the small circle. She chose no meat, no salt, no sugar, (Some would say, “no flavor!) She would often ask, “Is it organic?” 😂. Eventually, even ordinary pleasures like a good avocado or a Portabella mushroom, no longer appealed to her.
Yet, what amazed me, and what I learned from her illness, was how much was still left of her after so much has been taken away. She actually grew in that room. She grew deep. She got better. She tried. She always, always tried, and always with love at the core of that effort. Mysti was an intensely emotional woman, but many of you never saw it because it was very deep. It was raw. And it scared her.
I realize during that terrifying time that Mysti was not enduring the pain for her own sake. She had set destinations. Goals like sitting at the Thanksgiving table with her family, setting up all the Christmas decorations, finally seeing the big holiday production at Prestonwood, going to look at Christmas lights, celebrating her birthday once again at Maggiano’s, celebrating the wedding of a girl that could’ve been her own daughter in love, throwing her daughter-love, Sarah, a baby shower, and welcoming her first grandbaby, a new granddaughter named Crosby Grace. Each destination carried its own exquisite pain for her. Leaving her small circle meant leaving the comfort and enduring the consequence of pain, nausea and shame for her deteriorating condition. She endured it, nonetheless. It taught me that we will endure so much more for those we love, than we will for ourselves. It was such a picture of Jesus she painted to me.
DEATH
That takes me to the last period. Her death. I didn’t feel like it was her time yet. You know, we all — in the end — die “in medias res”. That is Latin for “In the middle of a story.” Of many stories, actually.
I suppose it’s not quite accurate to call the death of someone who lived with cancer unexpected, but Mysti’s death was unexpected for us and what I learned from my best friend’s death is that character is essential. What she was, was how she died.
Until about four in the afternoon, her mother could rouse her, and she would respond to her friends who came to visit.
Later that night, a few of us girlfriends climbed into her big yummy bed with her and held her hand. We snuggled her little yorky, Precious, into the covers with us. We were silly and took selfie’s, laughing and giggling like grown-up girls do.
Then, a while after midnight, it was clear that she would no longer wake to us.
Her breathing changed. It became deliberate, purposeful. I could feel her working again, pushing farther than before. She had a goal and it was called heaven. My girl was putting in some serious effort. Mysti rarely stopped until the wee hours of the morning, . This is what I learned: In life, she was a very hard worker, but here she was working hard at this thing called death, too.
In the end, death did not happen to Mysti. Like everything she did in her life, she achieved it.
Mysti Vee O’Dell has left her mark on each and everyone of us — and truth be told, it was an extremely elegant one. Albeit, “in medias res”.
Thank you.
Robin Moore
Aug 30th, 2019
from November 11, 2015:
robinkmoore 