Not Many People What I wrote and read at my great-grandmother's funeral
Not many people grow up with their great grandmother. I’m sure lots of people don’t live with them and remember getting off the bus in 1st grade greeted by her. Not many grandmas probably threatened the next door older boys to be nice to their great granddaughter. Not many people grieve the loss of their grandmother while watching their great grandmother mourn her daughter. Not many people get a second chance at having a grandma after they lose theirs. Not many people get to see the sparkle in their great grandmother’s eye when she recounts falling in love with her husband or a funny story about her favorite brother or learning how to drive on the farm.
When I was in kindergarten and first grade we lived with Grammy. What I then saw was fun and adventurous, I now know was a grandmother giving her grandchildren a soft landing pad. A safe haven. I have three strong memories from then, how sad it was to leave Swartzwalder road, staring at the nursery rhyme painting on the wall during prayers before dinner, and how much I hated having Gram wake me up. Because she did. If you don’t know, I’m not a morning person and well into her retirement years and past the point of raising children, she got up every morning, tried her best to rouse me, get me dressed, and walk me across the street to the bus stop. Well until I’d had enough of her strict routine and made Umma (Judy) leave her house every morning to come wake me up instead. They did this so I could go to school on time, so my mom could get her morning started off right, they did this to help fill in all the spots in my life that were missing. Not many people have people like that.
When I was 20 the life she had lived hit me like a ton of bricks. My mind was trying to wrap itself around 20 years and almost 90 was incomprehensible. The wars she had seen, society changing, driving when most women didn’t, working when most women didn’t, her fierce independence and determination to succeed in conditions others didn’t. As I began to take inventory of our family, it’s plain to see we’re overrun with strong, independent, outspoken women. It doesn’t take long to run up the family tree to Glenice, the matriarch. How we all fashioned ourselves after her in one way or another. 4 kids, 5 grandkids, 8 great grandkids, countless family and friends. If she ever worried about legacy, she was misled. I still honk my horn twice when I lock it to make sure it’s really locked. I crave perch sandwiches and walking in the woods of West Virginia. Not many people know that I’m only attempting to mimic the fierce independence and strength Glenice Cole had. Not many people have people like us. I’m so grateful to have been one of those people.
