In Praise of Grandmothers

    I am both a statistical anomaly and a lucky man. I lived until last November with a full set of grandmothers-actually, with a spare, representing maternal, paternal, and step- line. How many others are privileged enough to take daily lessons of wisdom, of love, and of sacrifice so far into life? 
    Although my grandfathers all passed away, the last one several years ago, I was left with three wonderful ladies who loved me, who taught me by example and by word not only how life used to be but how it might be and how it should be if I were only to set my path to get where I knew I needed and wanted to go. Who showed me how to treat other people with warmth and dignity, to discipline children with firmness but without anger, to be upfront and honest and gracious to everyone I meet. To love God and look for his face in every face I see.
     Well, I lived until last November this way, until Grandmother Harrington, my mom's mother, died after a slow decline into the shadowland of Alzheimer's. Although you might say that she began to die when she could no longer remember any of us, and it might be pretty close to the truth that her death came between her memory loss and her actual body finally fading away in her sleep, it is still an awfully final snap to get that call from your mom telling you that your grandmother is gone. She was the one with whom I spent the most time of all three, the one closest to the cookie-baking doting-on-grandkids stereotype. Even after I grew up and moved out on my own, I found every opportunity I could to visit her in the house that never changed, that represented all that was warm and comfortable and familiar about my childhood. It was a blow to finally realize that even though she was lost to me for years, the final note was played and nothing was left but memories.
       My cousin Todd is a kind, witty, and personable Baptist minister, and I assumed he would be doing her service. For some reason, my mom asked me to co-officiate with him, although my knowledge of preachin' and churchin' is limited to the Book of Common Prayer and my lack of any skill of extemporaneous prayer (that is, prayer that is unrehearsed and spontaneous, made up on the spot) terrorized me. Todd and I put our heads together during her visitation service prior to the funeral, and figured out how we would split the duties.
      I jotted down some notes of what I wanted to say, and sprinkled in some short phrases from the burial liturgy that meant a lot to me and would help me to express my feelings better. I knew that Todd would do a fine job of that smoothly-flowing spontaneous prayer that inspired pastors do so well, so I chose ideas based on her life and what I had learned from Grandmother.
     Here is the text of my eulogy:
 

   "         From the Book of Common Prayer

Grant, O Lord, to all who are bereaved the spirit of faith and
courage, that they may have strength to meet the days to
come with steadfastness and patience; not sorrowing as those
without hope, but in thankful remembrance of your great
goodness, and in the joyful expectation of eternal life with
those they love. And this we ask in the Name of Jesus Christ
our Savior. Amen.

            We are the luckiest of families, lucky to keep our mother, grandmother, great-grandmother until almost the age of 100, well into our own lives. Talk with your friends, your co-workers, your church families, and you will learn how blessed it is that Grandmother has been there for us for so much of our lives.

I am lucky to have lived with her for almost a year as a child. I am lucky to have spent so much time in her company and in all of your fellowship at her house for so many years.

          Her house was always like a time capsule. The Reader’s Digests that featured Humor in Uniform from the Vietnam War, the pictures that never changed, the furnishings that were never updated: to visit and fall into the slower rhythms of a calmer, more peaceful lifestyle. Where else as a kid could life revolve around talking around the table for an hour after the dishes were cleared, around snapping beans and peas; where else would a kid look forward to spring break all year long despite the worst selection of toys in the world? Really, a bucket of broken army men, plastic airplanes, and cracked golf balls? In a world changing from month to month, you could always count on Grandmother’s house to be eternal and unchanging, where the same old stories were told, where the pleasure of sitting around just talking and visiting were supreme over the television, where the menu was always your favorite meals of all times. Someone once asked me what my favorite food is, and the only answer that made sense to me is “ Whatever my Grandmother cooks.”

            Although we didn’t realize it at the time, she was teaching us every minute of every day we spent with her. The simple pleasures of company around the table, the value of fresh produce over canned, the importance of playing outside all day long before coming in at dinnertime. We learned the scandalous cheer of Roll Tide Roll Around the Bowl and Down the Hole from her, we learned that it was more important to cheer for the Tigers and the Braves no matter what and especially when they got whipped. We learned to sit in the living room in front of the TV and not pay any attention to it. I don’t think I can remember a single TV show I watched in her den, but I sure remember sitting and talking and stringing beans into a big metal bowl at my feet…

            We learned thrift-boy, did we learn thrift. Who else has seen her drop ice on the floor, pick it up, and wash it off so as not to waste it? Who else remembers going to Jack’s and fighting over who got which combo meal based upon which coupons were left? It was not even an option to buy something with no coupon…

            Maybe her last lessons were the most important. When she started to lose her memory and not recognize us, she taught us that who we are and what we have done is not as important as just belonging. Even though she did not know WHO I was, she knew that I was someone in the family,that I belonged to her, and she would smile when I came in. And I had to learn that that was the important thing…

            We owe a great debt to her for keeping us together after Granddaddy died. From him we got our sense of humor, our energy, our sense of fun. From Grandmother we learned the simple values of home and family and togetherness, to love one another and to enjoy each other’s company. Of comfort.

Eternal Lord, Heavenly Father, eternal rest grant unto her, and let light perpetual shine upon her. Amen"

     I miss Grandmother, some days more than others. There is not a Sunday when, during the Prayers of the People when we pray for "all who have died in the hope of the resurrection...let us pray to the Lord" that I do not whisper her name. I know that I will probably miss her with less of a sharp pain and more of a dull ache as time goes on, because that is the way of things and that is how God heals us, but for now I am comforted by the memories she left even though they come with a hard edge of bitter melancholy.

 May her soul, and the souls of all the departed,
through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.