A Loving Goodbye

Come on in, and enjoy the fire, still a bit low. Life is certainly different now. Here are the words I chose to speak at my Grandmother's memorial. A huge thank you to Cenobyte for her careful editting, I owe you so much friend, thanks.

Thank you for coming to share your grief at the passing of my Grandmother, Phyllis Mathews, and to celebrate her life. She was a remarkable woman who led a remarkable life; we will miss her and cherish the memories we have of her. I would like for each of you to think of a memory or two you have of Phyllis that gives you joy and reflect on it. There will be a short quiz when I am finished. While you're reminiscing, I'd like to offer this prayer from the Book of Common Prayer.

O HEAVENLY Father, help us to trust our loved ones to thy care. When sorrow darkens our lives, help us to look up to thee, remembering the cloud of witnesses by which we are compassed about. And grant that we on earth, rejoicing ever in thy presence, may share with them the rest and peace which thy presence gives; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Thank you Grandma for the time you spent with us; thank you Phyllis for the love and caring you have shown us. You will be forever missed, cherished, and celebrated for a life that has had such an amazing impact on the world around you. Once bound to us in flesh you now are free and flow through us in spirit. With joy I stand here and speak of the beauty and grace you demonstrated and embraced. The impact you have had on this world has not diminished, nor will it. Instead, your spirit will continue to grow through the love you have shown us and that we in turn offer to others. You have made of us mirrors of your own indomitable spirit. Through fortitude and patience you showed time and again that you would seize from life what you wanted, never complaining that you did not get what you deserved, instead rejoicing in what you had.
I would like to recite a poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins called “The Caged Skylark,” that speaks to the freedom of the spirit after death.

AS a dare-gale skylark scanted in a dull cage
Man’s mounting spirit in his bone-house, mean house, dwells—
That bird beyond the remembering his free fells;
This in drudgery, day-labouring-out life’s age.

Though aloft on turf or perch or poor low stage,
Both sing sometímes the sweetest, sweetest spells,
Yet both droop deadly sómetimes in their cells
Or wring their barriers in bursts of fear or rage.

Not that the sweet-fowl, song-fowl, needs no rest—
Why, hear him, hear him babble and drop down to his nest,
But his own nest, wild nest, no prison.

Man’s spirit will be flesh-bound when found at best,
But uncumbered: meadow-down is not distressed
For a rainbow footing it nor he for his bónes rísen.

Thank you Grandma, I love you.

Death is never easy, and each of you feel and live your grief in your own way. The experience of grieving is universal: all things die, but it is inside that experience we find a place where we all share our sorrow. Right alongside our grief is the hope of eternal life.

I cannot speak with enough skill to concepts of the afterlife; like death it is a universal concept that is expressed individually. What I can speak to is the immortality that we each gain through love. Each of you carries memories of Phyllis that nurtures you, guides you, and comforts you. Through her actions, her love for each of you, she has created a space that will carry forward who she was and what she represented.

This is not just an act of remembrance; the essential truth is that we are, in part, who we love. There is no action or inaction that does not represent who we are and those we love. It is a never ending cycle that enriches our lives and gives us the room for growth we all need and desire.

I would like to come back to those memories of Phyllis that I asked you to recall, and think of them again during this prayer, also from the Book of Common Prayer.

O LORD, support us all the day long of this troublous life, until the shadows lengthen and the evening comes, the busy world is hushed, the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then, Lord, in thy mercy, grant us safe lodging, a holy rest, and peace at the last; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Those memories we rejoice in are the eternal life I spoke of earlier. Each of those instances is moments when the things that defined Phyllis came out and we took notice. In that moment we saw the truth that was her and loved it, made it a part of us and we continue to do so.

And so in that spirit I wish to share a couple of my favorite memories of my grandma with you. When I’m done I want to invite each of you to do the same, to come up here and share with the rest of us the memory you most cherish of Phyllis and help enrich the world with her presence. Just remember this is an invitation, feel free to keep your memories private, because as I’ve said we each embrace our grief in our own ways.

One of the things I’ve always marveled at about my grandmother was her toughness. I often referred to her as the toughest person ever. I think on the multitude of injuries and afflictions she lived through with little to no complaint. The most significant was when I visited her the day after her first hip replacement. First I find out that she did it with only a local anesthetic, and was aware and speaking with the surgeon the whole time, but the most she took for pain killers after the surgery was Tylenol 3. I’m not going to go into the gory details of hip replacement but I cannot imagine anyone going through that procedure with so little anesthetic to dull the extreme trauma that was done to her body. That fortitude always amazed me and is something I too try to emulate to this day.

Coupled with that toughness was her thirst for life. Her ability to go out and enjoy what she wanted to enjoy, and seize life, sometimes literally, for all it was worth. Specifically I’m reminded of a time I had a friend over and we were playing cards and discussing heading to our local watering hole. My grandmother was also in town for the week and she and my mother had gone out for supper and returned around 9. When they entered my mother greeted my friend and commented that my grandmother had never met him and I waved her over, while imploring my friend to stand up. Normally not something I’d mention but my friend is 7 feet tall. So grandma went over to say hi and stare up at him, throwing her arm around his waist, or so I thought, as she talked with him.

My friend looked over at me and said rather quickly “We should go soon,” with a somewhat surprised look on his face. I said “ok,” and said my good byes, and grandma kept chatting up my rather tall friend until we left. Once we got in the car he told me why he wanted to leave so soon. Apparently grandma did not have her hand around my friend’s waist; instead she was doing a very good job of groping his butt. Yep, to this day we still tease said friend about the day my grandma got a piece of his ass.

There are so many memories I could share, we could be here all day. Instead I want to hear yours. I want to, for today, revel in who she was and what she meant to each of us. To rejoice in the things that were essentially the true Phyllis Mathews and laugh and cry and smile and live. So please come on up, and no matter the story, how long or short, although under an hour per story would be good, and share with us the Phyllis you knew and loved.

If you out in this virtual space have a memory of my grandmother you'd like to share, please feel free. Thanks.