My parents have asked me to say a few words at Grandma’s funeral in a couple of days. They are basing their request on some of the blog posts I have written here, including yesterday’s. I am touched and nervous and honored — and I have agreed to say a few words.
I am a much better writer than I am a public speaker, but I think I’ll do all right. For her, I will do all right.
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I wanted to thank every single person on Twitter who extended their condolences and offered prayers and hugs. When I mentioned eulogizing Grandma, many of you stepped up with a lot of encouragement. Thank you, thank you, and thank you. I’m so glad to be part of a community that not only celebrates with (and laughs at) its members, but one that will extend itself to hold us up. Thanks, again.
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I mentioned on Twitter that I was afraid of crying in front of my children when speaking about Grandma. I don’t mean just regular old crying. I think it’s perfectly okay to cry in front of my kids, especially over the death of someone whom I love. I meant that I was afraid of sobbing so hard I couldn’t speak kind of crying. I don’t know that I will do that. I am very sad, of course, and I expect that seeing my mom and being at the funeral home will cause me some tears. And I’m okay with that.
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Telling the girls that G.G. had died, which we did last night, went much better than I expected. Neither one cried; Flora had a lot of questions about when we, her parents, might die (that’s fun!), but other than that, it went smoothly.
Which isn’t to say that I don’t expect a lot of tears, questions, and/or fears over the next couple of days — and beyond. When confronted with death, kids think about it a lot, and always seem to want to address it at the most interesting times.
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On a final not death-related note: Lost in the shuffle in the past couple of days is the fact that yesterday was Dan & my wedding anniversary. Nine years ago yesterday, we were married. I couldn’t do any of this without him, and I’ll be counting on him even more over the next couple of days. But I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side, and I sure as hell wouldn’t want to do it alone. Thanks, babe. I love you, as always for always.
Red Pen Mama 
You’ll do fine. Just remember, public speaking is onlythe last step. The first is good writing, which you have in spades.
Thank you. That means a lot to me. As did she. I’m sure these words that I have written will help me find what I need to say.
Dawn,
I just wanted to say how sorry I am that you lost your grandmother. This is the hardest part of life-saying goodbye to those we love.
My grandmother died this summer and it was so hard/still so hard. Like yours, she had been gone from us for a couple years. At her funeral the congregation was asked to speak up about their fondest memories about her. Many did-and I will always treasure what they said. I am eternally grateful to my cousin, who spoke up and relayed what we (her grand children) remembered the most because the rest of us (grandchildren) could not speak through our emotions.
Those present will appreciate what you have to say more than you will know. And if you cry, sob, etc. they will wait until you can continue–and you will be able to continue because you are speaking about the love you have for her.
I’m sorry for your loss, too. And thank you for your encouragement. I hope I can do as well for Olympia’s grandchildren as your cousin did for you all.
Happy Number 9, Bellezza! Doesn’t seem like that long, does it?! I’m glad that with all I have been through in this last decade(!), I have been blessed with you for a partner through it all. You will do Olympia honor tomorrow…. I know it.
And I love you.
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Hugs to you and your family, my friend. I am sure you will do a fabulous job.
Take care, love!
And congrats on #9…how the time does fly!
Miss you much!
It did go very, very well, and everyone from my mom to the priest who did the ceremony complimented me on what a great job I did. I really have to thank Dan who helped tweak the wording, and also gave me the confidence to do it right.
I know! They’ve been great years, though. I am looking forward to the next 31 — and beyond.