Eulogy - Hands

Howdy,

I recently experienced a loss and the big BIG emotions that come with it (i.e. grief, depression, sadness). The feelings still creep up on me from time to time and remind me of the great loss I experienced. The huge gaping emptiness that was left behind when she was taken from our family. Death and loss are things I have dealt with my whole life, but this one was devastating. Even a picture that suggest a memory is enough to bring me back to that difficult emotional state. Clearly I'm still grieving. I think it's important to normalize that though. How people grieve and for however long it takes for the grief to ebb away is their path and their journey. We cannot judge. Each loss is different and takes it's toll in various ways. This one is emotionally exhausting. Mostly because I haven't really fully allowed myself to feel everything. WHY? because I'm a scaredie cat! As a therapist I would ask my client what they were so afraid of. I'm afraid of falling apart and it would be devastating and I might struggle to get my pieces back together. I'm just not ready. If I let that feeling out of the box lord only knows what else will come out of Pandora's box.  At any rate the point of my writing all this is my eulogy. It was the hardest thing in the world to write and even harder to speak in front of the people who loved her every bit as I did. I wanted to post it because she was an amazing woman and her legacy deserves to be shared. Here you go.

Hands

When my mother asked me to write Lola’s eulogy, I said yes, with trepidation.  How am I supposed to capture everything this woman meant to so many people in one short speech?  Moreover, how am I supposed to speak it without falling apart? After days of avoiding the tasks and the various emotions that come with it. I realized I can’t. I won’t. More importantly it’s not necessary. Lola was so much to so many people. Her legacy speaks for itself and will live far beyond any of us. So I’ll just say goodbye as eloquently as I can.

Five years ago when Lola first had her stroke, it consumed over half her brain and left her less able bodied than she was accustomed to. She remained in the hospital for about two months as we waited for her recovery.  Even in that state of disrepair, in her state of need, she covered me with blankets when I laid in bed with her. She held my hands reassuringly as if to comfort me as I struggled with the heartbreak of seeing her bed ridden.

I see and feel her hands when I think about her now.  Which is a lot lately. When I was younger her hands were firm and tough, they doled out punishments effectively and as fairly as she could. Lola’s hands taught valuable lessons about perseverance, independence, faith, love, and family.  Her hands were calloused from life and play because she lived a full life without fear or regret that I was allowed to see.

Lola’s hands were fragrant and bejeweled even when she was getting ready for bed, because, as she explained it, “you never know who you’re going to meet in your dreams.” Her hands were open, generous, and selfless.  She provided for her family, neighbors, and strangers.  She gave willingly from what she had available without pause. Whether it was money, her time, or shelter, Lola would provide what she could without hesitation. As I grew older, her hands became soft and playful. They reminded me to enjoy life. To gallivant and adventure now that I had completed school and begun my career. 

It’s strange how a pair of hands can be so much, and that’s just one piece that I will miss. I haven’t even begun to discuss her infectious laughter and joyful smile; or her endearingly curious nature, nor the ease in which she made friends of strangers. There is not enough time. There will never be enough time to enumerate the many ways she has affected me.

At the beginning of this eulogy, I said I was going to say goodbye as eloquently as I could. So I want to end with a story, a suggestion, and a letter. If you don’t know me, I am a mental health therapist and I recently assisted a client to deal with her grief by asking her to look past me and tell her deceased grandmother everything she wished she could have said before her grandmother passed.  It was such a powerful experience to be a part of her healing.  I watched her sigh a breath of relief as she let go of the words and the heavy emotions she had been holding onto for years since her grandmother’s passing.  As we explored her relationship with her grandmother further, we found that she had already said goodbye to her grandmother before she passed. So if you have any words left unsaid, I encourage you to do the same. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to speak to my Lola now:

Dear Lola,

I can only hope that I have an ounce of your grace and goodness.  I strive to be everything you believed I could be and to never disappoint you.  Lola, I wish you could have met my future husband so that he would know the durability of the cloth I was cut from.  I wish my children could have met you and learned from you as I did.  I wish you could have held them so they could know what it felt like to be in the presence of a powerful matriarch. Thank you for loving me as fiercely as you did.  For teaching me about my culture.  Thank you for accepting me as I am without condition.  Thank you for instilling me with strong family values.  I will carry your legacy of kindness, love, faith, generosity, strength, perseverance, fearlessness, and sense of adventure with me always.  I’m so grateful to have had a Lola like you.

See you soon. I love you. Good Bye.