Goodbye, Granny

This is the text of the eulogy I read for my grandmother's funeral.

I want to welcome everyone and thank all of you for coming. I’m one of the grandsons. I’m her oldest boy’s oldest boy.

I don’t know where to start. So I’ll just start. I will say it’s a good thing it’s not Saturday morning today or Granny probably wouldn’t be here. She’d be at a yard sale somewhere.

I wish she were here to tell you all the stories about herself. All of us can picture her telling a funny story about her childhood, or one of her grandkids, or something that happened to her and Pa. Especially if it involved snakes. The way she smiled and laughed and slapped her knee. I don’t have to describe it any further. You all know. It was wonderful.

I think everyone in this room knows that Granny never met a stranger. From the mayor of Huntsville, to a student at Butler High School, to the man who bagged her groceries at Kroger, she was always happy to meet someone new, to learn about their lives and to care about them. Like my wife, K___, has said, no matter who you were, and no matter how much you tried to focus on her, she always made it about you.

K___ never knew any of her own grandparents. They all passed before she was old enough to remember them. But she has considered herself so blessed to have been adopted by mine. In grandparent terms, it was like being homeless and then winning the lottery. And she and Granny were so close and loved each other so much.

Granny made everyone feel like no one in the world was happier to see you than she was. All of you grandkids, you know how fun it was to get to Granny and Pa’s house, to walk up and see her in her chair right there in front of the door, watching TV or talking to someone on the phone (probably Aunt Ruth). Even if you’d just seen her three days earlier, she was as excited as though it had been three years. Her face would light up with that big smile, she would clap her hands and laugh, and jump up and get to the door as quickly as her feet would let her. “Hey there! Come on in!” she’d say. She would undo the latch on the screen door, give you a big hug, say “Come on in!” again and then holler to the back of the house, “Junior! Look who’s here!” And it didn’t matter how many times you went there, if you were six years old or thirty-six, it still felt exactly the same. Every time.

Like all of you, I could go on for hours about how much she encouraged everyone. From the time you were a baby, she always cheered everything you attempted. And she kept on doing that our whole lives.

And she’d never let you get down on yourself. She would say, “Hush, now! Don’t you be talking like that.” And then she’d remind you of all the good things about you and the things she’d seen you accomplish. Deep down, I think all of us have as one of our highest ambitions to be the person that Granny saw in us.

But here’s the thing: You already are that person. That’s what she was trying to tell you. You just needed to believe it yourself.

We know how much she loves all of us. But the way she loved Pa is just beyond description. And she has had an awful hole in her heart since he left.

Several months after Pa died, I stopped by to see her. She was alone and she was in terrible pain. Some of you know she had trigeminal neuralgia (or tic douloureux), which is a disease of the nerves in the face that causes one of the worst kinds of pain known to medicine. And it comes and goes in spells that can last for hours or days. But even though she was having one of those episodes, she wasn’t just upset about the pain but also about her grief.

Through her tears, she told me, “I’m so worried I won’t get to see Junior in heaven. I got baptized when I was a little girl but I’m so worried I haven’t been good enough.” Then she wanted me to give her some assurance she was good enough.

Now, you’d think that was the hardest question anybody could ever ask another person. How could any human being make that kind of judgment? Especially about someone who helped raise him.

But no. That was one of the easiest questions anybody’s ever asked me in my entire life.

I was so happy to tell her, “Granny, I’m not good enough. None of us is good enough.” Then, I looked up and noticed, on the wall in her living room, there was a painting of Jesus on the cross. I pointed to it and told her, “Jesus was the only one who has ever been good enough. And He took care of it for all of us right there on that cross.”

It was like a weight was lifted off her. She fell on my shoulder and cried and said, “Thank you.”

I’m so thankful God used that time to remind both of us of His grace and His love that day. And I hope that, today, we will all be reminded to trust in what Jesus did.

Granny finally met Jesus Monday night. And she saw the love of her life again after sixteen years of missing him so much.

If I may, I’d like to quote something to you that I wrote the night Granny passed:

“We'll catch up soon, Granny and Pa. Sunday afternoons were never the same without you two together. Now your Sundays will never end! You both left us at Christmastime. But when we see you again it will be Easter morning.”

Speaking of holidays, most everyone knows that Granny absolutely loved Christmas. My daddy said that the last time he saw her, he kissed her, told her he loved her, and said goodbye. And as he was going out the door, she started singing “Jingle Bells.” I’m so glad he has that memory of her.

Her whole year revolved around Christmas. That’s mostly what all the hunting for yard sales was about: Finding gifts for us. It was another way she showed us she thought of us 52 weeks out of the year.

I’d like to share with you one of the last Christmas cards she ever sent us. It was getting very difficult for her to write anymore. But her words were so clear, simple, and heartfelt. I’m sure this is what she would say to all of us this Christmas.

The card reads:

"Sending all good wishes
for a very Merry Christmas
and a wonderful New Year.

Merry Christmas!"

Beneath that she wrote:

"I am so proud of all my family.
I can’t hardly write anymore.
But I love you both.
Granny Sharp "