Wilma Edens, 1924-2005

My grandmother, Wilma Edens, passed away on last Sunday. I was honored to give the following eulogy at her funeral earlier today:

When I think of my Grandma Edens, I can’t help but notice the high esteem in which she was held by all those who knew her. Just as we saw last night, when literally hundreds of people came out to view her, here was a lady gentle in spirit, yet firm in character.

This is a time to mourn her passing, but also to celebrate a life that was rich in joy, and love, and family.

Grandma was many things to many people, but I learned very early in life that one of her best roles was that of disciplinarian. I’ll tell this next story using some of Grandma’s favorite sayings, to add flavor. One day when I was around 7 years old, my cousin Jeffrey and I had the brilliant idea to build a little building of our very own where we could work our mischief. All we needed was the perfect spot. So we searched all over, until we found the perfect place behind Jeff’s building. There were some vines in the way, but we cut them off and threw them aside; we figured they couldn’t be important. After a day of hard work, our architectural masterpiece was complete.

Only later that evening did we learn that there was war in the camp, and we were going to supply the blood. It turns out that those vines we thought nothing of were actually Grandma’s grapevines, and she about kicked over the slop bucket when she found out her ornery little grandsons had cut them up. She was so angry that for a while I thought she might take back her often-repeated promise to dance at my wedding. She made us look into her beady eyes until we had no doubt about what was coming next.

Now, Grandma’s favorite punishment was to use switches on us. And to make it even worse, she always made us pick our own switches, which is like a condemned man choosing his own prison cell. I think she would always look to see how big the switch we brought back was as a way to test our character. Well, every time, we showed we had no character, so she always ended up using a switch of her choosing. And we always learned our lesson.

I last saw Grandma in September, when I made a surprise visit home. She had long since forgiven me for the whole grapevine thing, and she was very happy to see me. The last thing I remember saying to her was that I loved her, and I’d see her at Thanksgiving.

This Thanksgiving, I’m especially reminded of what I have to be thankful for. My grandma was a remarkable, saintly lady of unshakeable faith and uncommon wisdom. She had an artist’s eye for beauty, a Christian’s eye for truth, and, unfortunately for Jeffrey and me on a few occasions, a grandmother’s eye for mischief. We should all remember her as she was: A devoted lady who lived to see five generations, but who still managed to love each member of her family individually. She poured her life into us, and gave me memories that I’ll cherish for a lifetime. Hers was truly a life well-lived, and I am thankful that I was able to be a part of it.