Because She Mattered...

It has been exactly one year since my Grandma died. The other day, I was cleaning our office and I came across a wrinkled piece of hand-written paper that had been erased and rewritten several times. It was the eulogy that I gave at my Grandma's funeral. I wasn't planning to speak, but about two hours before the funeral, I called my mom and asked if anyone was going to talk at the funeral. When she answered "no," I just knew that I had to do it. I think that funerals need to be personal. Take note: When I die, I really hope that one of you will stand up and talk about me. Tell some funny stories. Talk about the time I gave you good advice. Tell the world that I mattered. Because...isn't that what we all want? We want to matter. We want to know that we mattered to someone. And I know, realistically, that it doesn't matter what you say about me at my funeral, because I'm not going to be there to applaud (or to be embarrased or to cry or laugh or feel proud of my accomplishments). I'll be celebrating with the Big Guy, flying with the angels, singing beautifully in the choir (and yes, it will be the first time that I have ever sung beautifully)! I just feel like it's important to eulogize a person at their funeral, and so I got out my pencil and paper 90 minutes before my Grandma's funeral and I wrote her eulogy...because she mattered.

Her name was Norma. But to most us, she was known as Grandma Dell. Our Grandma Dell. She was a strong, tough, stubborn, generous, kind woman, all wrapped up in a teenie, tiny package. At just over 4 and a half feet tall, Grandma stood next to each of us and celebrated as we reached an important family milestone...being taller than her (which most of us accomplished by our teenage years).

But her short stature could not hide her big heart and her love for her family. You couldn't walk into her home without being offered a Coke or a slice of that cheese that she was so good at peeling. She would offer us money...or the last donut in the cupboard. She was a caregiver, a nuturer. At family dinners, she wouldn't eat (or even sit down) until she knew that everyone else was taken care of.

Our Grandma Dell was quick to laugh at our antics and patient enough to let us pull the string on the Christmas bell everytime we visited. Grandma Dell was also a strong, tough lady, enduring the unimaginable loss of her son, and later, her husband, with strength and grace.

Our Grandma Dell set a strong example for all of us. Whether it was a stray cat at the back door or her grandchild knocking on the front door, all were welcomed and cared for in her home.

Two months ago, Grandma told me that she believed in Jesus, but she wondered if she had done enough good things to go to heaven. I assured her that all she had to do was believe, but I know that every one of us could tell of a hundred good things that our Grandma Dell has done for us. I believe with all of my heart that she in heaven with Pappy today, waving at all of us, just as she did every time we left her home.

There is no doubt that she was good enough for heaven.
Her name was Norma...and she was our Grandma Dell.

I miss her. And she definitely mattered.