My Eulogy to Grandma

Sitting on bed holding up end of small bow tie quilt
Here I am back in February 1993 with the quilt I made.

This afternoon I came across the memorial announcement for my grandmother’s death (which brought tears to my eyes) and the eulogy I wrote for her memorial (which I share with you, for I still believe that God calls us to carry on).

My Eulogy to Grandma

February 1993

I brought this quilt here today because, for me, it symbolizes what I believe God calls us to do when an ancestor, when someone we love, dies. I made this quilt the past two weeks out of scraps from a quilt Grandma and my mother made eight years ago, as they mourned my grandfather’s death. Making this quilt helped me to mourn the loss of a wonderful, loving and generous woman, to have hope for the future, and to carry on Grandma’s work.

As I sat in bed with the flu these past couple of weeks, thinking I’d be too ill to join you in mourning Grandma’s death, I was struck by her endless creativity, by the gifts she bestowed on us, and the traditions she passed down.

Looking at the quilt and afghan Grandma had made filled me with respect for her creative talents and hope for our future. Hope, for in marrying Grandpa and loving him devotedly, and in giving birth to and raising her daughter and son, she laid the groundwork for future generations. We – her children, grandchildren, and those who dearly loved her – have been blessed as the recipients of her many gifts.

Margaret Mary Hebner taught us all a great deal. I remember her teaching me how to sew, knit, crochet, needlepoint and embroider, bake bread, make ice cream and granola from scratch. She taught us how to love devotedly and generously, as well.

I will remember her always as the perfect grandmother – generous, creative, and loving. We were truly blessed to have been created and loved by Mary Hebner. She nourished us well with her many gifts.

Jazz and Grief

Listening to jazz as I grieve

Yesterday I took my mom out for a late lunch at a local diner. She enjoyed the outing. She likes going out of her memory care community with me.

Before I visited my mom, I saw my psychologist who suggested I do less and allow myself to grieve. I’ve been too defended, using busyness to keep my feelings at bay.

Today I listen to straight ahead jazz in memory of my father. He passed on his passion for jazz to me. Listening, I allow myself to cry. I miss sharing this love of jazz music with my dad. He lives on in so many ways. He lives on in my love for jazz, true American classical music.

Tomorrow we will remember my dad in a small get-together of close family. We will listen to jazz, as we share photos and memories of him.

My parents had requested that we keep their memorials small, inviting only close family members. We are honoring that request. Fits our emotional needs, too. We can only handle so much right now.