Eulogy for my paternal Grandmother, Irene Hamilton

Eulogy for my Grandmother, Jessie Irene Hamilton (Thompson). 1916 -2005

Delivered on November 22, 2005, Trenton, On.

 

I stand before you today, with the knowledge that we are all united, family and friends, not only in our desire to pay our respects to Irene Hamilton but rather in our need to do so.

Today is our chance to say thank you for the way you brightened and enriched both our independent and collective lives.

It is not an easy task to commemorate the life of a woman with such a rich character and beautiful soul. My reflections and recollections of my grandmother are many, and they offer a tapestry of memories rooted in beauty, wisdom, sadness and unparalleled happiness.

Even in its simplest form, the story of her life instils a sense of respect. It provides a picture of a life well lived.

Born Jessie Irene Thompson, she was one of four children born to Samuel and Charity Thompson in Napanee, Ontario. At times, her life was not easy – she found and lost love early in life, she was married and widowed at a young age; and left with two small children to raise on her own. 

Love then found her again, and she married my Grandfather when he was serving in Trenton during WWII. They were married for 44 years and raised a family of five more children. Now, many seasons have come and gone and she leaves a legacy of five surviving children, their spouses and more than forty grandchildren and great grandchildren.

If one were to write a book of her life, the underlying theme to which the plot plays out, would be rooted in her convictions, her values and her faith. From her notable work ethic and strong family values to the strength she drew from her belief that God would help her climb the highest mountains.

 While raising a family and working all her life, she still found time to be a Girl Guide Leader, a member of the Women’s Institute; an active member of the Women’s' Progressive Conservative Association, and the president of the North Trenton Home and School Association. There were very few community events that if asked, she did not volunteer to assist with.

Her dedication to her community and her sense of civic responsibility is, if nothing else, what we owe to her to carry forward.

It is within the story of her life, that I realize that the most important gifts bestowed upon us are the intangible. They are not the gifts we display in our homes; they are instead the gifts we receive with our hearts and with our minds.

I know that through the course of her life, Grandma inspired, guided and provided a platform for many different people. What she gave to each person is as independent as his or her need for the gift. These memories are yours alone. They are her gift to you, to your heart.

The gifts, like her children and grandchildren, are also her legacy. They are for those here today, and for generations to come as her wisdom and strength moves forward towards eternity through those who loved her.

For me, there are four very specific and monumental gifts that she gave me. They came in the form of lessons. They represent the teacher that she was to me, and the student that my own grandchildren will some day be.

Lesson #1: The Importance of Simple Truths.

Illustrating the blatantly obvious moral right in pure poetic form was her inherent nature. I would guess that not a day passed that an ethical parable did not come out of her mouth.

Ingrained into my memory and certainly more so to her own children are her  sayings. Some are profound in the wisdom they offer, others completely silly, and that is exactly why they are cherished.

I would like to share a few of her simple truths with you;

·        Oh what tangled webs we weave when first we practice to deceive

·        It is better to be looked over than to be overlooked

·        From the time you are born till you ride in a hearse, there is nothing so bad that it couldn’t be worse

·        It’s only a problem if you let it be one

·        For every stitch sewn on a Sunday, you lose nine on Monday

·        This too shall pass

·        A “can’t” is a sluggard too lazy to try

·        Good intentions like a crying child should always be carried out

·        The road to hell is paved with good intentions

·        You can’t tell the depth of the well by the length of the pump handle

I know that these sayings will continue to resonate with us. Make her proud and use them well and use them often.

Lesson #2: Pride.

Grandma taught me that when you take care of yourself, you make yourself important. Vanity, as a mode of pride, implies that my world and all of the people in it are important to me.

As we all know, Grandma would not be seen without her hair in perfect form and her outfit wonderfully coordinated. I adored this about her. When you care about yourself, you are open to caring about others.

I also heard that it managed to garner the attention of a few men around the Trent Valley Lodge. A boyfriend at the age of 89? A woman of my own heart.

Lesson #3: Solitude.

Grandma taught me the difference between loneliness and solitude. She showed me that the path to inner strength is found within the courage to be alone.

After more than seven decades, filled with the noise, chaos and comfort of family, she lived alone for almost two more decades. She lived alone and she appreciated it. She grew to love, to need and to be sustained by it.

Most people fear being alone because they understand only loneliness. Grandma taught me that solitude is the joy of being alone, while loneliness is imposed on you by others.

Loneliness is small; solitude is large. Loneliness closes in around you; solitude expands toward the infinite. Loneliness has its roots in words, in an internal conversation that nobody answers; solitude has its roots in the great silence of eternity.

Grandma recognized this and knew how important solitude is to our morality, integrity, and ability to love.

My grandmother allowed me a sense of place within solitude. I find that solitude in nature. In the forest, along streams and riverbanks, on the top of cliffs and in the ground cover of the forest floor. She led me there and she walks with me there.

Lesson #4: Privacy.

This was perhaps the hardest and most elusive of all the lessons.

Many of us have experienced the frustration of inquiring about the days of her life, when we were not witness. Often, the questions would go unanswered.

While initially, I internalized this and found myself not worthy of the answers, I came to see it differently and accept it as one of the greatest lessons anyone has ever taught me.

She taught me that every form of happiness and every experience have within it; it’s own boundaries and a need for it’s own privacy.

Our greatest moments are personal, self-motivated, and not to be touched or judged by others. The things that are sacred or precious to us are the very things we are allowed to keep to ourselves and can withdraw from promiscuous sharing. Those personal moments, experiences and choices that we all have, are ours alone. To be shared only at our discretion.

I also found within this lesson that I don’t need the linear details of a person’s life to love, respect and understand them. I knew the woman that she was. The events that shaped her character and fed the depths of her soul, made her exactly who she was, and that was the mother, grandmother and friend that we all admire.

For these four lessons, I will be eternally grateful and through them, I grow more and more each day.

It is also through the wisdom and strength that she has provided that I am able to find peace today. That I am able to accept that death can be as beautiful as life itself. That it is in fact a well deserved rest. That it is, most importantly, comfortable and without pain.

Everyone has a different vision of heaven. Based on your beliefs, your desires and your aspirations, heaven takes on a different meaning and different face for everyone. Yet, in all of these heavens, we find reconciliation and divine comfort.

Please know that when you close your eyes and travel to your heaven, she is there. In the recesses of our minds, she is in all of our heavens.

In my heaven, she is dancing with my grandfather.

Following the service today, and again as each winter approaches, I will invite family and friends to gather together and light four candles in the memory of Irene Hamilton.

Four candles that she will be able to see and feel the warmth of, from all of our heavens.

The first candle represents our grief. The pain of losing you is intense. It reminds us of the depth of our love for you.

The second candle represents our courage. To confront our sorrow, to comfort each other and to change our lives.

The third candle we will light in your memory. For the times we laughed, the times we cried, the times we were angry with each other. It is for all of the silly things you did and said, and for the caring and joy you gave to each of us.

The fourth candle we light for our love. We light this candle so that your light will always shine. As we enter this holiday season and share this moment of remembrance with our family and friends, we cherish the special place in our hearts that will always be reserved for you.

We will light these four candles to thank you for the gift your living brought to each of us.

I will leave you with one last thought today. A very close friend of mine blessed my life with a beautiful story that I want to share with you.

As I mentioned earlier, Grandma believed and held faith that God would help her climb the highest mountains. This story brings me comfort through my grief, and lets me see that today, Grandma is on the top of that mountain and has found her wings.

How often have you stood on a cliff’s edge to watch a bird soar below you? We all know that we can’t fly, but everyone has had a thought at one’s cliffs edge at one point in his or her life that “maybe I can fly”

Are these little twitches just meaningless glitches in an otherwise clear understanding? We laugh, shake it off and continue to play out what we know is real and true. We can’t fly. Our whole world is based on what we know and hold to be true, that WE CAN”T FLY.

We can’t until something pulls or pushes you over that ledge and the wind picks up your very soul, carrying and cradling you to the fundamental truth that, in fact, we can never come back down.