Speaking at my Grandmother's Funeral

I haven't been present to Steemit like I've wanted to be. I lost my Grandmother last week. On Monday, I found out she was unwell (and unhappy), on Tuesday I found out she was in the hospital and looked bad. My dad and sister, Christina, called that night and asked if I could go to England on Thursday. We ended up getting a flight for Saturday night, hoping Nanny (My sister and I call both our grandmothers "Nanny". To know which grandmother we were talking about when talking to each other, we'd attach their location to the end. So my dad's mother was affectionately known as "Nanny in England") would make it until we arrived. However, she passed away on Thursday evening.

At the airport, my dad says his siblings are talking about who will speak at the funeral. He says he doesn't think he can. He says he would love it if one or both of us would speak. Christina says she's not sure if she can. I don't know if I can.

Over the past few days, however, I've been getting words and ideas popping into my mind for what I could say to honor her. Maybe I will speak. So, I came upstairs this morning and wrote what came to mind. Her service is on Friday, and I'm hoping that I can be eloquent and strong, and that what I've written will honor her and bring comfort to those attending.

Here it is:

When Nanny passed, and I was lying in my boyfriend, Rico's lap crying, he asked me, "What ways of being was she?" Words like loving, strong, generous, beautiful, kind, joyful, and sarcastic (haha) came to mind. It was this question that stayed with me over the last week. When I felt sad, I thought of who she was and what made her amazing. I narrowed it down to a few for today. When I think about the ways of being that Nanny was, I think:

She was loving -- So, incredibly loving. In the way she looked at her children (and not just her children, but also their partners), her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren, it was so clear to see the depth of love she had for her family. The trials and loss she experienced throughout her life never got in the way of her capacity to love.

She was thoughtful -- She never missed a birthday or anniversary. Her cards featured sentiments that were filled with that same love. Christina told me earlier this week that Nanny sent her a birthday card this year. She said with tears in her eyes, "I'm 29 years old, and she still sent me $20... and I loved it!" Her generosity was unending, as was her kindness.

She was funny -- Nanny had an amazing sense of humor. Nothing brought me more joy than the first time I saw her be a smart-ass to my dad in the exact way he would always be to me. I know where my sarcasm comes from.

Finally, she was powerful -- Nanny was such a powerful woman. Fierce. A force. Strong. Her strength is unbelievable. She went through so much in her lifetime. The stories she had! Things that would easily take another person down. She lost so many, and she still knew how to laugh and love. She had a heart surgery that the doctors thought she wouldn't make it through, and that was over a decade ago.

I am so proud that her blood runs through my veins. Her strength is in me. I purposely said, "her strength IS unbelievable", because even though Nanny is gone, her strength remains. I didn't get to see Julie before she passed, but I heard again and again how STRONG she was. That is Nanny's strength, passed down to Julie. I wasn't sure that I'd be able to speak today, but words and ideas kept coming to my mind, and I got a spark of confidence. I felt Nanny, because that is Nanny's strength passed down to me. It's been passed down to all of us.

Nanny's legacy continues through all of us. When we choose to be strong and powerful. When we choose to be funny and joyful. When we choose to be thoughtful and kind, and when we choose to be loving. This is Nanny's legacy alive in us.