Eulogy

Inimitable is the word that first came to mind when I thought of how to describe my grandmother. Incapable of being imitated, duplicated or reproduced. I don’t think anyone would disagree that there will never be another Betty Fletcher.

I’m still shocked and surprised – I expect to step through the back door of her house and to hear her call my name. I shouldn’t be surprised, I suppose – at 93, she had lived a grand, full life and at that point, it seems accepted that it was time.

Though to look at her at the hospital on Monday, you wouldn’t have known it. She was wearing fresh makeup, worried about having to wear that unattractive hospital gown and was ordering everyone, doctors, nurses and us, around. She was ready, though, she said. But, the next day, she was still holding her own as the medicines helped her heart work more efficiently, and she displayed a classic moment Tuesday afternoon when she stopped breathing for several moments and when we all came rushing to the hospital, we found her sitting up in bed, smiling at us all. I told her that we would have come to visit without her holding her breath until we showed up, but I was glad that it pulled us all together, with her, one last time.

She was still in fine form though and when I left Tuesday afternoon, she had determined that Suzanne needed to be fixed up with the doctor – the fact that the cardiologist was already married didn’t deter her in the slightest. ;-) That evening though, she made the transition and it was apparent that she was ready.

She told me that outliving your child was a cruel punishment, and that without granddaddy, she was terribly lonely. I am not a sociologist, nor am I a medical doctor and I don’t know if it is truly possible to die of a broken heart, but I believe she did, both literally and figuratively.

I’ve been fortunate to have found her diary that she kept for several years prior to her marriage to my granddaddy. She was careful to chronicle their courtship there, and this entry from 1937 describes perfectly how she felt today, 70 years later:

April 26, 1937: two letters today from Edward. Don’t know what I’d do without him.

Their love for each other may have been the most memorable thing about them both. Even as recently as a few years ago, at any family gathering, you could glance up and catch granddaddy staring at her with a look of love and devotion the likes of which I’ve never seen anywhere else.

While I’m glad that she didn’t have to live long without him, and that she had reached a point in her life where she could make the decision that she was ready to go, I wasn’t ready.

I’m still not. Gommie is someone that I simply couldn’t ever really grasp the concept that one day, she wouldn’t be here anymore. My brother and I had the same fear Wednesday morning – the glue that has held us all together is gone. It is important that we recognize that and make sure that we all hold together anyhow, but I’m going to miss her terribly.

I feel there is only one way that I can wrap up a short description of who my grandmother really was – and I have to admit that this isn’t a phrase I’ve ever used before. Go Gators!