ive been wanting to share this for a while

its my grandmothers eulogy. i have been listening to the mix i made for her memorial service all day and figured today would be a good day to share. not looking for comments, just wanted to share.

I’ve been mentally preparing myself for this moment for a long time. Secretly I knew nothing inside of me was really ever going to be ready for this. Writing this, it still doesn’t seem real. At this point standing here I’m not convinced this is really happening, either. To some of you, she was Shirley. A friend, a peer, an incredibly intelligent woman with a lot to say and a never-ending desire to learn more. A travel companion who would never be satisfied until she saw the entire world. A business associate, novice bridge player, lifetime knitter. The list of accomplishments is almost mind boggling, especially when you take into consideration how much she had to fight to get to where she was. To all of you she was so many things. A mother, a sister, a friend, a Nana.

To me, she was my hero. She started saving my life before I was even born and never stopped. She’ll never stop being my inspiration. She taught me strength and tenacity when it seemed like the world wanted to do nothing else but knock us around. Every time I fell, she picked me up. When we lost my mother, her daughter, she stepped in. She didn’t have to raise another baby. She didn’t have to fight my battles with me. She didn’t have to do anything. She did it because she wanted to and had the attitude “no one can do it better than me” when it came to most things in her life. And you know something; looking back I think she was right. No one could do Christmas like her. An atheist throwing consistently memorable Christmas parties with a Jewish husband is truly something to marvel at if you ask me. Every year was a different theme depending on where she traveled to that year. Who else would have a piñata, or an Italian buffet, or karaoke, or a smorgasbord on Christmas Eve? Only Nana. She did EVERYTHING her way, whether you liked it or not. And that’s what I loved and hated the most about her. Someone with such strong convictions could only be my hero or my worst enemy. She could be both in the same day, but I always knew she had my best intentions at heart. Some call it tough love; I call it the only love that made any sense to me. She didn’t teach me the useless things in life. Make-up, fancy clothes, boys, seemed like frilly extras in comparison to the other things. She taught me to appreciate art and culture. She showed me almost every corner of this country and told me about the rest of the world from first hand experience. She gave me an appreciation for music by supporting every musical whim I had, whether it was cello, saxophone, guitar or singing. I want to state for the record that my love of singing definitely did NOT come from her. Have you ever heard her sing? I’m surprised I ever had the balls to open my mouth to sing for fear that I might sound remotely like her. But then again, no I’m not. That’s another lesson she taught me. If I want to do something, do it. The worst I can be is terrible at it. But if I loved it, who cares? Most importantly she taught me that no matter what happens in life, I’ll be ok. No matter how many punches we take, we’ll be ok. Its impossible to look back on her life without feeling a tremendous sense of pride and admiration. She went through hell and never stopped fighting. She will never stop being my hero. She taught me so much and influenced my life in ways I could never properly explain to anyone. She was tough as nails and impossible to death with at times, but she was also hilarious and brilliant and strong and everything a woman should be.

I find tremendous peace in the way she died. She was surrounded by family and slipped away without pain. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her. The pain to stop. If there is a heaven I know she’s there raising hell and straightening a few things out. I loved her and I’ll miss her but her work here was done. Now its up to us to make her proud.