Last week, my words about my grandmother were read at her funeral. As a grieving young woman, it made my heart ache. However, as an aspiring writer, it was an honor greater than any other I have ever received. It allowed me to give something back to a woman that had given me every single thing I could ever want from the moment I was born. The night I wrote that piece about my grandmother, I laughed while typing some parts, and cried during others. As my grandmother's loved ones listened to the pastor read it, they laughed and cried, too. I looked around the room, surveying the familiar faces inside, and I realized that what I saw was the definition of a successful life. Below the teary eyes of those who loved her most were smiles, and it became clear to all who were present that one cannot possibly think of the life my grandmother lived without grinning. She left behind a legacy of love, laughter, and living life to the fullest. In my book, that makes her one of the most successful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving. In a world full of people fighting viciously for a taste of success, it is refreshing to see proof of a person that earned the title without having to hurt themself or others in order to do so.
The day that I was born, my grandparents were there with a pink dress for me to wear home. My cousins, my brother, and I were all so blessed to have those two wonderful people there waiting eagerly to hold us as we each began our lives on Earth. We all have countless pictures of Grandmother holding us when we were babies. Grandmother's arms always made us feel safe, and she seemed happiest with a sleeping grandchild on her lap. She was a natural with children, and even as we got older, she had no problem handling what most others would consider a handful. I cannot even begin to count the number of summer nights that all five of us would spend several nights at a time at Grandmother's house. She somehow managed to wake us up, cook a magnificent breakfast, play ball with us outside, cut grass, make us lunch, wash clothes, make the beds, clean the house (which she claimed was always dirty), warn us to stay away from the water hose, mud, or whatever else we could get into, change our clothes when we played in the water hose and mud anyway, cook dinner, put bandaids on all injuries sustained during the day, catch the fireflies we set loose in the house, give us baths, change us into pajamas, and put us to bed. Then, she did it again the next day, as well as any other day that we wanted. She loved us being there, and no matter what tricks we pulled, before we left to go home, she'd whisper in our ears, "Now, you call me if they are mean to you, and I'll come pick you up." And, she always did. She never broke a promise to us, even as we grew older and found ourselves breaking promises we made to her. She did not love us because she thought we were perfect. Instead, she just loved the great things about us so much that our flaws were unnoticed by her. At Grandmother's house, love was always stronger than hate. Always.
My grandmother was recognized as the type of woman that could always be seen working hard in the background. She never wanted to be the center of attention. She never sought after glamour or glory. At our family gatherings, Grandmother can be seen in the background of nearly every photograph or video that I have ever seen. We always struggled to make her sit down long enough to eat more than a bite of food at a time. She worried more about us having enough tea in our cups and rolls on our plates than most people do about their mortgage payments. She insisted we eat, leave our plates wherever we ate, and then relax. Helping her clean or do anything else was not an option. The only other rule besides this was that in her home, one was to respect three men: Jesus Christ, Elvis Presley, and Paul "Bear" Bryant. None of us ever found out what the punishment would be for breaking these two rules, which is exactly the way Grandmother wanted it. To her, holidays were special because they allowed her to make her family happy. This past Christmas, she said, "You know, when I was little, we got in trouble for laughing at the dinner table. I think it should be a happy place. I think we should get in trouble if we DON'T laugh at the dinner table." Of course, she said this while eating her steak on a fold-out card table that was set up beside the big dining room table. She did not care anything about sitting at the head of the table. She had a better view of her son, daughter, son-in-law, daughter-in-law, and grandchildren enjoying Christmas lunch from that little card table. That, to her, was the best seat in the house. Five minutes after she sat down, she was surrounded by grandchildren that gladly traded their seats at the kitchen table or in front of the TV to sit with her. We flocked to her. Like I said, she was a natural.
Even though my grandmother enjoyed being a background worker, her personality and incredible character set her apart from others. She was smart, beautiful, witty, charming, saucy, bright, hilarious, adventurous, brave, generous, careful, strong, thoughtful, and forgiving. She kept all of the little things we all wrote about her when we were little, and one said, "Why hasn't her hair turned white?" That is perfect when remembering her, because we all thought our grandmother was way cooler than everyone else's. She did not fit the stereotype of a grandmother, nor did she fit any other stereotype. It was not until the last year of her life that I ever heard her say, "I'm tired." That was the first time that I realized that my grandmother was not composed of rechargable batteries. Honestly, I would not have been shocked if someone told the energizer bunny was really just my grandmother wearing a costume all along. She had wonderful friendships with others, and when her grandchildren grew older, she began traveling often with close friends. She had a vibrant social life, refusing to sit at home and do nothing with her time. Hearing her talk on the phone with a best friend was like listening to two teenagers, always giggling and making fun plans. Whether she liked it or not, she was never able to fade into the background as she wished. Some people just shine without knowing it. She was one of those people. She was a star.
People ask how I am doing, and I tell them, "I'm okay." And, I am not just saying that, although it is the generic response to that question. I am okay, because I know that my grandmother is somewhere awesome with people that she has been waiting patiently to see again. This is how she would have wanted it to be, without a doubt. I keep telling people that the one thing I can do for the woman that gave me everything I ever wanted is to allow her to have what she would have wanted. I cannot be selfish and be angry with God for taking her from us. Instead, I am thankful that he took her in a peaceful way, allowing her to maintain her pride and dignity, just as she wished. I am grateful that we were given so many amazing years with her. I am blessed to have a multitude of memories, photographs, videos, stories, and keepsakes to remind me each day of the kind of person my grandmother was, which will allow me to live the kind of life that she can be proud of as she watches over me from the clouds. My grandmother's story is not a tragedy, regardless of how it ends. It is a comedy. It is a romance. It is an inspiration. It is everything she ever wanted it to be... and more.
I did not cry when I wrote this; I smiled. It makes me happy to remember the way her laugh sounded, how she would say, "I've got to watch my stories." before turning on her favorite soaps, the way her scrambled eggs were always perfect, and the way her perfume smelled. It makes me laugh to think of the adventures we had as kids during the summer at her house. I can literally feel my heart warm when I picture her walking around her house, making sure everyone had every single thing they could possibly need during a meal, stopping only when the grandchildren all yell, "GRANDMOTHER! GO SIT DOWN AND EAT!" She'd say, "Oh, you hush." But, she'd go sit down.... even if only for a few minutes. Goodness, I'm going to really miss her. I already miss her like crazy. I cannot wait to see her again. Until then, I just want to make her proud.
"But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; They shall run and not be weary, They shall walk and not faint."
Isaiah 40:31
