A Eulogy for Grandmama

I would like to express my gratitude for all of you here today who have come to honor the memory my grandmother, Ginger Bolger. When I see all of the faces gathered here, I see a lifetime of love. I see the fruits of the seeds of kindness and acceptance that she sowed wherever she went. It goes without saying that she was, and still is, loved in so many ways.

Grandmama (or Grandmommy as I still think of her even now) led a truly remarkable life. She was born in the midst of the Great Depression and has seen 6 wars and 13 U.S. Presidents. She, like us all, has seen good times and bad times, but through it all, she remained a woman of steadfast determination and unwavering faith. She was a school-teacher, florist, hairdresser, beauty instructor, and Master Flower Show judge. Oh, and she was also Arkansas High’s Porker Beauty in 1952, and apparently those genes got passed down, because her granddaughter got the honor in ‘99. She is a woman whose life is truly worthy of admiration.

But to Marci and me, she is still simply Grandmommy, who let us help her in the kitchen when she made us her famous “sugar-pies,” which, by the way, are just as unhealthy as they sound, and twice as delicious. She let us play on her sewing machine that my mom never could touch as a kid. (To this day, I can sew a pillow, but I can’t sew on a button.) I remember the little house on Wade Lane with bottles on the windows (Grandmama’s version of the poor man’s burglar alarm) and the tree outside that I could spend hours climbing.

The law of the universe seems to be that it is a parent’s job to raise their children properly, but it is the grandparent’s job to spoil them mercilessly. In that regard, I must say that Grandmama more than succeeded in upholding that role. She introduced us to coffee, which I wasn’t a fan of back then, but which Marci absolutely loved. Grandmama always called Marci her “coffee drinking buddy,” and they spent many a Saturday morning watching cartoons, Grandmama with her cup of black coffee and Marci with her cup of milk and sugar with just a bit of coffee for good measure.

She used to let me stay up all night watching old TV shows on Nick at Nite, and then she would let me make a fire in the front yard to roast marshmallows and hot-dogs. And this wasn’t in the country; Wade Lane is in walking distance from the mall. She would even drive me to Albertson’s at 11:30 at night because I just HAD to have a new G.I. Joe man. She lived on a fixed income, but she would spend money that she didn’t have (which I didn’t really understand at the time) just to see me smile.

She also taught me to use my imagination. I can’t tell you how many He-Man castles that I had that I made out of cardboard boxes. She would baby-sit me and Marci and Ben and Heather Halter and take us to garage sales, and she taught us to make do with what we had. She also wasn’t afraid to wear our butts out when we got out of line. I know that when she was a school teacher she taught in Room 2, because that’s what it said on her paddle. Trust me, you did NOT want her to take out Room 2. Just because she liked to spoil us didn’t mean that she didn’t demand respect.

Unfortunately, Grandmama’s stroke changed her and all of our lives irrevocably. Although her mind remained as sharp as ever, her body would no longer cooperate. Her words became strained and she was confined to a wheelchair for the remainder of her life. Every day became a struggle, but still she persevered, and for 20 years she fought to keep her faith and to enjoy her life. I can’t tell you how many people at the nursing home would tell me how much they loved Miss Ginger and how she was one of their absolute favorite residents. She could be cantankerous at times, but she always had a smile that would brighten the room, even after her teeth were long gone.

When asked what characteristic of Grandmama’s I would most like to emulate, I can only say her stubbornness. I could use a euphemism like determination or steadfastness, but if you knew her like I did, you’d know that she wouldn’t want to dress it up. That quality of digging in her heels and not budging no matter what life threw at her is what got her through many hard times, from the tragic loss of her beloved son to the epic battle that was the aftermath of her stroke; that’s stubbornness, in the best possible way. It is that stubbornness that allowed her, despite many hardships, to raise the daughter that would grow up to become my own wonderful mother. It is that stubbornness (along with her faith) that will help Mom get through these especially trying times, because it’s a hereditary stubbornness. I know, because I got it, too, and I have no doubt that it will continue to help me get through whatever life throws at me. It has so far.

I’d like to conclude by saying that while a death is always a sad occasion, there is always sunlight beyond the clouds. For 20 years, Grandmama has been trapped in a prison of her own body, her mind in turmoil from the helplessness that she felt. I was with her at the end, and she went peacefully, the way we would all wish to go. She is finally free of the pain of this world, and I can only wish her love and a safe journey. Hers is a life to be celebrated, and she is at peace a last.