Shortly after I spent the afternoon condensing my grandmother’s entire life into a four paragraph obituary for the Dallas and Albuquerque newspapers, my uncle and mother returned from their day at the mortuary to join The Drinking.
“Here,” I said, passing a copy to my uncle. “I need a review.”
He took it, sat down on the couch and lit what was probably his 600th cigarette of the day. “Sure. Thanks for doing this.”
“I’m glad to,” I answered, sitting without a second thought down into her recliner. “Thanks for trusting me to write it.”
“Hey, you got a pencil?” He reached out, “Shouldn’t that be ‘stretches’?”
“Oh, here. Hmm, I don’t know.” Translation: It’s ‘stretch’. It is. But I’m not going to correct you for three reasons. A) it’s your mom’s obituary. B) you’re a lawyer. C) I can’t really think of the proper explanation as to WHY I’m right at this particular moment because of, I don’t know, all this tequila in my margarita mix?
“Amie called and she’s bringing up the Hymn book,” Mom walked out of the kitchen with her own margarita, sat on the couch opposite her brother, and continued, “we’ll have to go through and pick out a few.”
“I have reached my limit of sonly obligations today. There is not one more thing I am capable of dealing with tonight without a cigarette in one hand and a bourbon in the other.”
“We don’t need them ’till Monday.” Mom clarified. “I’m done tonight, too.”
“Oh, and Jules,” he turned and pointed at me, “you’re doing the Eulogy.”
“MEH?!”
Mom had hit me up about this earlier. I was SO NOT cool with it. I mean, what the hell would I say? That she was my grandma and I remember she always baked really good cookies at Christmas? She was a mother to three children, one grandchild, and a host of unrelated yet beloved individuals, a military wife, friend, researcher, bridge player, historian…the list goes on 86 years behind and around me, and you think I’m the best representative for this? ARE. YOU. KIDDING! ME?!
“Just me?! I’m it?”
“What about Kenty?” she suggested.
“I’ll call Kent. I bet he’d love to do it. But you’ll speak for the grandchildren.”
“ooookay…”
So I procrastinated for the next two days and stayed up until 3am writing my speech the night before. Then I scratched it and wrote a new one two hours before the service. Then I decided I hated them both, and mashed the two together. 20 minutes before we started.
GAH.
Gareldine “Garry” Marjorie Adams
1921-2007
When I was asked to speak on behalf of the grandchildren today, I was extremely overwhelmed. How do I even begin to relate what she meant to each of us? So instead, I thought I would talk about one of the ways she was with me recently, even though I live hundreds of miles away, and how she will still be with me, no matter where I go.
Two weeks ago, I was tying big puffy bows on a dozen shovels for a groundbreaking ceremony. I hated those bows – mainly because I found that I couldn’t just run up to Michaels and buy them ready to go. I had to make them. Because god forbid my shovels go without foofy ribbons to add that extra touch of class to my event.
Now, I’d never made a puffy bow in my life. After several hours of wrapping and tying and twisting and fluffing, I realized two things:
1. My bows were, very clearly, stupid.
2. If Grandma had just 5 minutes with me, the heavens would open, the light would shine down and the angels would sing upon the most beautifully perfect bows the world had yet to see. And City Council would love them, dip them in brass, mount them on the office wall and tell visitors,, “Hey, you seen those bows Garry’s girl got? That’s twelve loop velvet right there.”Then I stopped daydreaming and fiddled with those bows some more, because they started to remind me of what she always used to tell me.
“Do something you love, because you’ll be doing it a loooong long time.”
It’s something she wished for all of us, and that I know all the grandkids are trying to figure out as best they can. I think I’m getting close, because I have a job where I get to make stupid, puffy bows, and not only are they important, they make me happy.
“Do something you love.” That’s everything I know about my grandma right there. She did everything she loved, she did everything with love, and she loved each and every one of us with a quiet, steady strength.
Like a star, she never wavered. Her patience and generosity were like the ocean – her cool, graceful touch connecting us over the greatest distances, leaving gems of wisdom, tenderness and unique love on the shores of our lives.
Her life was all love, and she loved us a loooong long time.
We are so grateful to her. She gave us so much – so much that we’ll take with us and remember in our actions and thoughts, and pass down to those who come after.
And I think that’s all she would have wanted.
October 31, 2007
Palm Chapel, Daniel’s Family Funeral Services
Albuquerque, NM.
Garry and Jules. Two gals never known by their given name.
© 2007 – 2012, jules.maas. All rights reserved.
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If that girl above gets a fluffy bow I want one too. Can mine be pink? How do you come up with such great writings. I don’t know her but coming from a girl who has never been known by her name it was magic.
I wish I had a chance to see Michael! He was gone so fast I didn’t even know he came until Mom told me the next day! Will you let him know it meant the world to us that he was there?
Michael told me about your loving eulogy. I’m honored that you would share it with us.
Remembering Garry…Happy 87th
Jules, I am so sorry to hear of your loss. It’s never easy to lose a loved one around the holidays. The Eulogy was lovely.
Now its in print! Don’t forget to send me a foofy bow.
aww… that’s lovely Jules.
I love the picture at the end – you have your gradma’s smile!