It’s been two weeks today since I lost my grandmother. One week since we said our final goodbyes on this earth and laid her body to rest. I was blessed to have her and so incredibly grateful to honor her legacy by sharing at her funeral. Below is a transcript of what I shared. We should all be so fortunate to have such a beloved person in our lives, but even better if we can be that someone.

Memaw:

I’ve been thinking about what I wanted to say to honor Memaw for a long time. I have scripted anecdotes and my memories have been flooded. But nothing I have written could capture what was in my heart.  There aren’t phrases or stories or memories that I can share that will do any sort of justice to who she was.

The fact is that she had a whole entire life before me. She was this beautiful, vibrant little girl who was smart and sharp and witty. And she had little brothers, so that made her strong and gritty and resourceful. She grew up into a teenager who went out with friends and kept a scrapbook about their outings and kept gum l wrappers from her dates. Then she met Bobby Jack and fell in love. And the two of them were just kids but full of life and adventure and they had kids and they all grew up together.  And she was fashionable, and into music, and the heart of parties.  And she traveled and went to concerts and hosted friends. She and Bobby Jack ran things. They worked hard and ran businesses and ran their home and they loved strong and hard. And she lived a whole life.

But then she became a Memaw. And I am certain that though she lived such a busy, full, meaningful life before August 27, 1975, she absolutely and unequivocally found her purpose when my sister, JJ, was born. I know she was a good Momma. I know that because she raised two great kids who were well-rounded, smart, loyal, and headstrong like her. But she was unequaled as Memaw. By the time I came around, she was a professional.  And for my whole entire life, I have known nothing but 100% devotion and professional expertise from her as Memaw.

She was my favorite.  She was my favorite everything.  She was my favorite lap. She was my favorite cook. She was my favorite lullaby singer. She was my favorite story teller. Her house was my favorite.  Her bed was the coziest. Her dogs were my favorite.  She knew it too. She knew she was my favorite.  Everyone knew.
She made everything magical and special. And no matter what our make believe was, she made it her job to help bring it to life.  I can remember playing pretend in the backyard and she would bring out this set of empty potpie tins she had kept and washed and these tiny spoons that came with Sweet’n Low for me to play with. And I thought it was so fun to play with those little things.  When we wanted to play dress-up, she would bring out the prom dresses she made for my mom, or the Bar G barmaid dresses that fit me like a ballgown because I was only 3 ft tall. If we wanted a fort, she would full-on sew a tent with a door and all.

If we needed accessories to bring our toys to life, she’d help us find something around the house or in the yard for it. If we needed doll clothes she had a room full of fabric and would make us anything we could dream up. And then she taught us how to do it too. Our creativity was never limited as long as we could imagine it we could make it. She would tell me often that there was more than one way to skin a cat. She taught me and JJ and Justin and Max, to sew, and use hotglue, and repurpose just about anything into whatever it was we needed.

And all along the way she taught me everything she knew. She took the time to explain things to me. She was so smart. And she never dumbed things down for me. She taught me how to cook, and mend my clothes, and paint my nails, and plant things and harvest things. She taught me about being frugal and buying things when they are on sale to stretch your money further. She taught me about taking care of what you have and that newer isn’t always better. This was the 80s and 90s and she was definitely ahead of her time in that sense.

She loved Egyptian History and geography and cultures of the world.  She read National Geographic every single month for like 50 years. She taught me that different cultures have different ways of doing things and that it’s interesting to learn about. She was always reading and learning something new. She was always sharing with me interesting things she’d read about.

She loved music. When it was just me and her, she’d often put on records and get far away and dreamy listening to Patsy Cline. She adored Patsy Cline and western swing music.
She was absolutely my rock. She was always just a phone call away and she’d be there.  Even when I called her like 20 times in 5th grade just before math class because I didn’t do my homework telling her I was sick, she’d still come.  She’d say, “Julie, is something or someone bothering you at school” and I’d think, yeah, Ms. Wrenn and math homework,  but I’d say, “No memaw. I just really don’t feel good.”  And She’d just accept it, bring me home, and baby me.  I don’t think for one minute she believed me, she just loved me. And she was gonna dang sure be there for me if I called.

She was my Memaw and for my whole life if I had a question or was trying to figure something out, or trying to remember where to find something or how to do something,  she was my first thought and first call.

This spring, when I was putting in my garden, I called her to ask about tomato varieties she used to grow and about growing beans and  potatoes. She was so sharp and told me just how to do it, what to look out for, and when to put them in. A little while later, she called me back and I missed the call and she left me a two minute voice mail telling me more about planting and growing potatoes.  She never stopped teaching me and I never stopped needing her. And now she’s gone.

No matter how many times I told myself to cherish every moment with her because I wouldn’t have her forever,  I still was so unprepared. I really couldn’t conceive of a world without her in it. I still can’t completely appreciate this loss.  I love her and I miss her deeply. My hope and prayer is that her spirit is held deep within me and that I give the world as much as she gave me.