I wrote the following eulogy for Granny's funeral:

It took me a long time to realize that the great-grandmother I had was made of a stronger fiber than most. The self-centered short-sightedness of youth long blinded me to this fact. Only when I grew into adulthood did I begin to understand that Granny’s strength of character was truly unique, and that her selfless devotion to her family went beyond what is demanded of any of us. As I matured, her life became my example.

I didn’t know Granny for most of her life, but the stories speak for themselves. Through hard work, she made her way in life. Coming from a family of tenant farmers with nine children, life never gave her many handouts. And when she found herself a single mother, my grandma will tell you, she did what it took to raise her daughter – even when that meant working long days in a factory, and coming home every night beyond the point of exhaustion.

You probably know that, in many ways, Granny was like a mother to me. At an age when other grandmas are buying up condos and living out their golden years in fair-weather states, Granny chose to stay close to what mattered most – her family. But God knows, she never would have considered that to be a sacrifice.

I have Granny to thank for my best memories. I remember the Sunday dinners she cooked – ready and waiting when I came in from Sunday school. I remember how she indulged my childhood fondness for making mud pies and “chocolate” mud milkshakes, allowing me to ruin countless cups and straws and pie tins. I remember our yearly tradition of watching the Wizard of OZ together. I remember how she encouraged me to take school seriously, and do my best. Most of all, I remember the love and comfort she gave.

I’m grateful that I was with Granny on that last day. She was ill that day, and perhaps not her usual self. She hid it well though, and in her customary style, put on a brave face. She wanted us to have a nice visit. Perhaps, she wanted to leave us with a good memory. We talked of flowers, and hummingbirds. She was playful with Lou – she fed him cookies, smiled at him, called him to her. When we left, she kissed him twice.

I am also grateful that I was with her at the very end (and I will forever be grateful to Scott, who drove over to tell me personally that the time was near). And even then, at the end, she was an outstanding example of how to live; as well as how to die. I am told that in her last hours, she was sympathetic with the hospital staff. And in that very last hour, as she quietly slipped away, she seemed at peace. I think she did not want us to feel very sad. Rather, I think she wanted us to rejoice in the beautiful, full life she lived.

To be sure, Granny’s passing leaves me with a painful emptiness in my heart. I have lost my confidant, my sounding board, and my advisor. For who, other than my husband, could love me as well as she did? Yet, I am trying to do what I think she would want me to do: that is, celebrate the life she lived. I am lucky to have known and loved her, and even luckier for the love she gave me. Until my own last day, I will strive to live by her example.

I don't have quite the right words now, but I know you love and miss her. I remember meeting her back in 4th grade, and how through the years we all called her Granny... :) Most of all, I know how much you meant to her.

Jessica,

The Eulogy was absolutly perfect in so many ways, and it came straight from the heart. I am so proud of you and so grateful that Granny was able to leave you with a life time of love and memories. You should know that I'm sure she was watching with a arm heart and smile on her face.
Love,
Mom