My eulogy for Grandma
Through the woods,
And past the barn,
We walked to Grandma's house,
Where she worked in her garden,
Growing plants from seeds
That her grandmother gave her,
Kept alive all these years.
By her gentle, loving care.
She was always there for us,
Always ready with a peel, pared apple,
A band-aid,
Or a hug.
Every Christmas,
And every Easter,
She always took us out
To get a new dress,
And it made her so happy
To get us any dress we wanted,
Even if it wasn't her style.
One day,
Just after she'd had a stroke,
I went to visit her,
And I came home,
And sobbed and sobbed,
Because she'd asked me
If I wanted tomatoes
About six times,
Though she had known
That was allergic to them.
I realized that,
Whether from strokes or Alzheimer's,
The grandmother I'd always loved
Had lost some of her memory.
For the next decade,
We watched as it got worse,
But even when she didn't
Know who we were,
She knew she loved us,
And that we loved her,
Often mistaking her daughter
For her mother.
One of the last coherent things
That she ever said,
The day that she died,
Was, "Is Susannah OK?"
Her memory might have been damaged,
But she wasn't all gone.
Sometimes, she remembered,
And always, she loved.
(For my grandma,
Eulah Evelyn Brown
10/31/1923-03/08/2011)
And past the barn,
We walked to Grandma's house,
Where she worked in her garden,
Growing plants from seeds
That her grandmother gave her,
Kept alive all these years.
By her gentle, loving care.
She was always there for us,
Always ready with a peel, pared apple,
A band-aid,
Or a hug.
Every Christmas,
And every Easter,
She always took us out
To get a new dress,
And it made her so happy
To get us any dress we wanted,
Even if it wasn't her style.
One day,
Just after she'd had a stroke,
I went to visit her,
And I came home,
And sobbed and sobbed,
Because she'd asked me
If I wanted tomatoes
About six times,
Though she had known
That was allergic to them.
I realized that,
Whether from strokes or Alzheimer's,
The grandmother I'd always loved
Had lost some of her memory.
For the next decade,
We watched as it got worse,
But even when she didn't
Know who we were,
She knew she loved us,
And that we loved her,
Often mistaking her daughter
For her mother.
One of the last coherent things
That she ever said,
The day that she died,
Was, "Is Susannah OK?"
Her memory might have been damaged,
But she wasn't all gone.
Sometimes, she remembered,
And always, she loved.
(For my grandma,
Eulah Evelyn Brown
10/31/1923-03/08/2011)