This morning, I was transferring files from my old computer to my new one. The old one is set to go to my cousin very soon. As I was deciding what to keep and what to trash, I came across the eulogy I wrote for my Gran’s funeral last year.
I could transfer it to my new computer, but I think it’s time to let it go. Instead, I’d like to just put it out there in some permanent fashion. I will post it here.
This post isn’t meant to be sad because the eulogy wasn’t really meant to be that way either. Well, you can judge for yourself.
For my Gran, Amy R…
When I was a kid, I would call my Gran every night. It sounds stupid now, I know, but I called just to make sure she would answer the phone, just to hear her voice so I would know that everything was okay for at least another day. We would end our phone calls the exact same way, “I love you.” **kiss** You know that smoochy, kissing sound… we would do that instead of a hug or a real kiss goodnight.
She would do cartwheels the day before my birthday because I was so excited. She called it, Naomi’s birthday Eve and put it on the calendar for a long time.
I love my grandma. She wasn’t perfect, she wasn’t even nice all the time, but she was funny and compassionate and she loved me. She was my Gran. That’s all. She’s my Granny. When this incredible sadness comes over you, I think what it boils down to is the realization that there is one less person in this world who really loves you.
I don’t want people to forget these little things about her. She can’t be just another lady on the obituary page. She was someone special to me. For those of you who didn’t know Amy R... as well as we did, I collected a list of some her idiosyncrasies.
She had some kind of obsessive compulsive need to collect recipes. She loved to cook.
She put lemon juice in everything
She made the best chocolate chip cookies ever, I try to make them now, but there not the same.
She proudly regaled us with her ridiculous tales of Trotter’s Jelly and Liza Longtoes.
She refused to say her hair was red, it was always Titian. Whatever that means.
She openly corrected bad grammar until the very end.
She always had a Kleenex shoved up her left sleeve. It was really gross.
She often kept a damp cloth in a plastic baggy in her purse to clean the faces and hands of any dirty children.
Her voice would get really high pitched and shrill when she got mad… which was pretty often.
She loves cheese and pasta, and even more together.
She loved all forms candy and chocolate as a chaser to the cheese and pasta.
She literally burnt out two television sets in the time I’ve known her. She really loved FoodTV.
She was really feminine, and loved things like lace, flowers, Victorian era dresses and dolls.
She could walk around a “shop” as she called them, for hours. She didn’t tire easily.
She never stopped dreaming. Not for one day.
The hardest thing is trying to make myself realize that I’m never going to see her again (in this life). I wish I could take her to just one more shop and watch her walk around for hours. But I do have the hope of seeing her again--in a way I’ve never seen her.
Actually I’m starting to feel like maybe we are all missing out on something really great. Like Heaven isn’t just an idea anymore. Now it’s this real place I’m starting to look forward to myself.
It’s a privilege that the lines of Heaven are wide open to us. Because of that, we are never far from Heaven and never far from those we love. We can live with the joyful expectation that we too will “wake to the glory of Heaven” and, ourselves, be joyfully reunited with these people we have enjoyed and loved.
I look forward to seeing my Gran again one day--to go to a shop with her, to see her bright and beautiful face and of course to tease her one more time.
I will remember you Gran, and thanks for all the laughs.
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