Tuesday, May 24, 2011

A Eulogy To Remember

**As most of you know, my granny passed away last week. I wanted to share a portion of the Eulogy I wrote and read during her funeral. If I am become half of the woman she was then my family will be blessed beyond belief.
Many of you in this room today have known the short, spunky, white haired woman I call my granny for more years than I have been alive.  Therefore, I know we can agree that she was a lively, hard working woman that was quick to give of her time and had a heart as big as the world.  She cared for her family in a way that is simply indescribable and is a rare treasure in this day and age.  

Granny was the type of lady you thought would live forever.  She was so strong, so feisty,  but she had to be........how else could you survive Frank Leslie and four sons of your own?  

When I think about her and all she has meant to me, to us, it is hard to put into words.  
  • I think about the hours I spent sitting on the counter watching her cook.  
  • I think about all of the time she spent making candy and other homemade items for the Cow Creek Volunteer Fire Department.  
  • I think about snuggling in her back before bed, while she told me stories of days gone by.  
  • I think about zip up robes, hair bonnets, teased white hair, and aquanet hair spray.  
  • I think about how she cared for my dad after his car wreck and Jerry after the fire.  Just yesterday, dad told me about how she would stretch his legs and he would be moaning in pain, but the only sympathy he received was, “It’s not going to do you any good to cry!”  
  • I think about sitting on the porch stringing beans with her and papaw.  
  • I think about how she loved to have Brandon living with her after his family moved to West Virginia.  
  • I think about how we used to transform her house into a playground of our own and she wasn’t only OK with it, she encouraged it. 
  •  I think about staying with her during the flood and after our house burned.  How she would fix me an egg sandwich every morning.  
  • I think about how she always cooked Sunday dinner.  No matter when you showed up, dinner would be waiting, and she would always sit at the table and tell you about the most recent Floyd County happenings.  
  • I think about her later years, when she would gather her crop in plastic Food City bags.  She would throw the bags up the hill as far as she could, use her walking stick to take a few steps, pick up the plastic bags, throw them a little further, and so on until she got to the top.  
  • I think about the homemade Christmas ornaments that have hung on her tree my entire life.  
  • I think about how Brandon and I used to (okay, we still did) pick on her just to see her get fired up.  
  • I think about how she would call everyone in Cow Creek to find out where the ambulance was going.  
  • I think about how she would hem Shea’s pants, because besides her, sis was the short one in the family.  I think about the endless hours she spent  teaching us to sew.  
  • I think about helping her place the lift mat under papaw when he had to be transferred with a hoyer lift.  
  • I think about her knobby fingers gripping the pencil as she worked cross word puzzles.  Oh, how I loved those knobby fingers.  
  • I think about how many times I heard her say, “I might as well keep moving, because I hurt anyway.”  
  • I think about how she faithfully cared for papaw for years and years.  
  • I think about her drawing water from the well.  
  • I think about all of the stories dad and my uncles have told me about her ringing chicken necks, learning to drive, nursing their wounds, making shirts out of dairy feed sacks, threatening to take their life if they didn’t stop it, and so on.  Last night, dad told me about a time when John Gordan cut their hair in mohawks and she went down threatening to kill him.  I can hear her now, “You fix these boys hair, right now, before I wear you out!”  
  • I think about how she could barely see over the steering wheel.  
  • I think about the time she wrecked.  When asked what happened she said, “I sneezed and ran in a ditch.”  
  • I think about Brandon calling her Q-tip.  
  • I think about so many things.
The last few years, I really learned to treasure her hugs.  Her head fit perfectly beneath my chin.  I would squeeze her tight, she would squeeze back and we would exchange, “I love you’s.”  Then, she would look up at me with the most beautiful smile. That is how I will remember her.  May we all remember her contagious smile, her humble service, her hard work and her never ending love and patience.


Teamarcia said...

That was beautiful. Cherish her memory forever.

Heidi said...

what a wonderful tribute. she sounds like a very special lady.

Katie Perdue said...

That was beautiful- praying for you and your family during this time.

WeeMasonMan's Mom said...

What a wonderful speech. I'm so sorry for your loss :o(

Anonymous said...

So sorry about your Granny. Beautiful Eulogy. Thanks for sharing with us.

Rebecca @ Better Life Bags said...

Amber - that was beautiful. I feel as if I knew your Granny after reading that. What a special woman to aspire to be like.

Casey Martinez said...

Somehow I actually missed the news of your Grandmothers passing and I am sorry about that! My condonlences to you friend. I pray for peace for you as your mourn her. She sounds like she was an incredible woman!!

Sandy said...

tears in my eyes...so grateful for Hester's life lived well...greatful for your recognition of and gratitude for your "gift of Granny Hester"

A wonderful eulogy. I'm sure it ministered to each of those present, celebrating her life.

Rachelle said...

beautifully written. Prayers to the family as they grieve from missing physical presence and blessings to all as they continue to cherish the memories and love legacy she's given.

4 Lettre Words said...

I'm so sorry, Amber...but what an amazing tribute. I know she will be greatly missed.