My grandmother passed away last Thursday morning. She was 95. She had been in the nursing home for 2 years, and hadn't really spoken with any regularity for the last year, due to a series of small strokes. She was, for all intents and purposes, trapped in her body. So when her passing came, it was a great loss, but the sadness was offset by the belief that she is no longer constrained, that her soul is soaring, that she is happy once again.
I wrote a few words for her funeral, and tried to keep it brief compared to what I prepared for my mother's funeral. Below is the eulogy... just felt like sharing.
John 15:12 This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.
I take this to heart when I think of my grandmother, Louise. But it struck a particular chord last night when I was trying to decide the best way to pay tribute to her.
My grandmother loved me. She loved her husband of 58 years. She loved her children, and lived long enough to have buried one of them. She loved my brother, my husband, and most definitely, my son Alex. She loved her family, her sisters and brothers, her nieces and nephews, great-nieces and nephews, and their children. She loved her students. And she loved her friends, her church, her community and her life. And she loved God.
Grandmother never spouted scripture, she never attempted to convert anyone, she didn’t sit at home and read the Bible every night but she led by example. She led the life of a true Christian woman. I learned more about being a godly person from her, my grandfather, other grandmother and granddad. And in that way, I was blessed. I had wonderful examples that helped set me, hopefully, on the path to being a giving, loving person.
Nearing 90 years old, she still stood in the kitchen with her rolling walker, with the little seat…and cooked an entire meal for a family in town who was busy fighting cancer. It’s what she could still do, cook, and bring comfort through giving of a meal.
She hated her handwriting near the end of her life. She said, “you just can’t read it.” And I’m sure, her years as a teacher is why she had been so critical, but I received birthday, Christmas and general notes from her…handwritten, until she just couldn’t see well enough to write anymore. And the handwriting, it was just fine. She did this for everyone. Even when there was email, she wrote, pen to paper because it was personal.
I remember visiting them in Phoenix on my spring break from college, and we pulled up to the mailbox area of their community. Granddad got the mail, and looked through it, and handed her a letter, “Here Louise, this ones for you. Guess someone died.” I was confused, to say the least. He looked at me, “This woman only writes us when someone in town dies. Those are your grandmother’s letters to handle.”
I giggled at my grandfather’s unintentionally funny explanation. He smiled. Grandmother sort of smiled, and gave him the “Oh Paul!” look. She then tenderly read the letter, and went about her “way” of dealing with the sad news inside. I knew a carefully crafted letter would be written to the family who suffered the loss. If they were good friends, or someone they’d known a long time, they were going to make a donation or send flowers. All handled by grandmother.
I think one of the only times I ever saw her TRULY annoyed was when she made my brother and I tuna fish sandwiches. She made a typical, Midwest tuna salad. It had relish in it. To us, it was “that green stuff” and WHAT WAS IT? She simply left them there for us to eat, but upon her return found two small piles of green relish on each of our plates. We had picked out the relish. She laughed about it later in life, but was NOT amused at the time.
But she loved us. It was never a question. It was a “given.” And we loved her.
One last story, right up to when she went in the nursing home, Grandmother made sure my brother had Chex mix for Christmas. Now, you might not think that’s a big deal, but my brother lives in Dubai. The shipping alone for a few bags of Chex mix was over $200, because it had to go FedEx. It didn’t matter. She knew that to Doug, Chex mix meant Christmas. And she was going to be sure he knew she was thinking of him… and when she couldn’t, Sue did.
She led by example…and we now follow… and emulate… and honor her memory.
Psalm 63:3 Your steadfast love is better than life.
What you may not know, or understand right now, is that we
have a job. Our job is to raise a child who can go out into the world and be
confident, successful and happy. If that means we yell sometimes, to get a
point across, then we yell. If it means we punish or take things away when what
we asked to be done, isn’t done, it’s because we’re trying to make a point and
trying to guide you to better choices.
