One year ago today,...

[DarrinGT]

,...Lori and I lost her Mom to a year long battle with Cancer. We were on a Bike Trip with our peeps, including, 2 of her Brothers and their wife's.

 

Today My 19 year old daughter Taylor who is in college doing a double major for Language and Intercultural Studies, sent Lori this email:

 

Hi Mom,

For my Advanced Rhetoric class, I was assigned to write a piece that would be read at an event, such as a graduation speech, wedding toast, eulogy, etc. Because it has been one year today since Grandma passed away, I decided to write a eulogy for her.

She gave me permission to share it, so here it is.

 

The Eulogy I Should Have Written

I’m going to do what you hate. I know how you feel about the spotlight; like me, you avoid it at all costs. You prefer to stay behind the curtain, bustling about unnoticed as you prepare the stage, the actors, and the orchestra for their performance, then blending in with the crowd, content to enjoy the fruits of your labor without a hint of applause. I’ve seen the performance many times, taking up my partwhere appropriate, but it’s only recently that I realized that you were always the kind stagemaster. So,

Grandma, though I know you hate it, it’s your turn to take a bow.

 

From the beginning, you directed the cast and crew of my life. Long before I arrived on the scene, you and Grandpa reared my gregarious mother, generous aunts, and gentle uncles with a sense of responsibility normally seen only in farmers or soldiers. You two also instilled in them a sense of celebration normally seen only in farmers or soldiers (if anyone has lacked the opportunity to witness farmers or soldiers party after a long work week, they should remedy that situation immediately. They put as much effort into having a good time as they do at their daily jobs). Most importantly, you both

poured God’s love into your children until they overflowed with it.

 

When grandchildren came along, you seamlessly welcomed them into the performance. They joyously filled the role that you had created for them. Soon, the stage filled to bursting with small stomping feet, toppling towers of blocks, and endless little messes. The rafters echoed with the laughter of children, then teenagers, then adults, then children again. Yet with everything and everyone jammed onto the stage, it never felt crowded. Pushing and shoving did not exist, except in jest. You patiently tended to each actor, guiding them in their lines and stage directions, then sat back in your rocking chair and rejoiced as they succeeded in their performance.

 

Sometimes, you seemed to simply melt into the background, though we always knew you were there. I wonder, though, if you did this on purpose. After all, theatre is best observed and appreciated when the stagemaster does not run on stage, arms flailing, yelling out “Stop, stop, stop! That scene was all wrong, let’s do it again.” Rather than interfere, you chose to stay back and let the play unfold. But don’t think for a minute that we never knew you were there. To this day, I’m reminded of you whenever I smell baking Chex Mix. Our annual Christmas Eve celebration doesn’t feel right if it’s not at your

house. The clinking of dominoes transports me back in time to the many hours spent around your kitchen table, lining up the matching dots and trying to figure out whose turn it is. And, every once in awhile, someone with your eyes or nose or walk will come into Russ’ while I’m working, and I’ll have to take a sip of water to clear the lump in my throat.

 

It was a year ago today that you took your final bow.

 

I’m not convinced that you didn’t plan it out. You chose the one weekend that your children and grandchildren were out of town; some were on a motorcycle trip, others putting together a wedding, I was on a choir trip. The performance went on and you quietly slipped away, content that your job was finished. Hospice called your children, your children called their children, your children’s children explained it to their children, and for a moment, despite all of your skillful preparations and directing, the play stopped.

 

You were in the spotlight.

 

Then the spotlight was empty.

 

Slowly, the play continued. The stagemaster was gone, but now we all knew our roles. Since then, some acts have come to a close, while others began. A few of the actors have become stagemasters of their own stage, though they never truly leave the performance.

 

Shakespeare insists that “All the world’s a stage.” In our family, this has been true, though there is one major difference; throughout the entire performance, not one second was faked. Every act, scene, and line has been completely sincere.

 

Grandma, it’s time to take a bow. You have avoided the spotlight all of your life, but we

are ready now. Your beautiful play will not end; it is part of a much larger play under a much larger Stagemaster.

 

For now, please accept the applause you so richly deserve.

 

Don’t worry; this is not the end. We will see you again. The show must go on.

 

So Proud of My Taylor

 

Thanks for reading,...

 

As I finish this she just got home from work, Gotta go give her a Hug!

[naturbar]

"So Proud of My Taylor"..... And rightly so. A well spoken young lady !

[cowpuc]

WOW, what wonderful way to fulfill that assignment Taylor, very very well done young lady!!

I know your Grandma has already spoken to your heart to say this but I will say it anyway, indeed, the "play" is farrrr from over - the Eulogy that her Grand Daughter wrote proves that!!

Your message speaks volumes of what type of person your Grandmother was and how she is loved and missed by so many!! In her honor, here is that much deserved standing ovation for her as she takes that bow of which you speak!!

:clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2::clap2:

 

 

Darrin, Lori, Taylor and family:

Condolences at the separation from Lori's Mom that you folks have suffered.. Hopefully the fabulous memories (some of which were mentioned in that fantastic Eulogy) of "Grandma" will sustain each of you until the day when you are all together again in the presence of God!

Puc

[Yammer Dan]

[bill in mn]

Nice.

[stickhandle2]

Beautiful