Profession

The eulogy

A week later, I found myself climbing the stairs to the lectern on the other side of the altar from the pulpit, where the priest stood, looking sober. The pulpit was carved white limestone, very pretty, and the lectern was distinguished from this by being carved from wood. There seemed to be an awful lot of stairs, and I was nervous anyway. I was giving the third and final eulogy, behind King Thor and Aunt Aslyn. Thor had spoken at length about Grandma's abilities as a leader, a warrior, and a smith. Aunt Aslyn had choked up and delivered a short bit about meeting Grandma in high school, their long friendship, and creating Valkyrie together before highlighting her professional accomplishments, which took awhile. My speech seemed crappy in comparison after all that. As I stood looking out over my family and Grandma's friends and acquaintances, I tried to calm down. Grandpa Damian and Uncle Bucky were especially affected by her death, sitting together and leaning on each other, but none of the family was particularly well off. Her parents and kids were a mess, and her English grandparents had come over. Grandpa Alexander looked old; he'd so enjoyed having more time with her since he'd first died when she was very young. Grandpa Bruce looked carved from stone. The valkyries were handling it the best, but then again, they knew they'd be seeing her again. Just do your best, I coached myself. That's all she'd want.

This plan was checked sharply by my discovery that my sweaty palms had smudged parts of my speech. Damn it, I should have used a ballpoint instead of my favorite fountain pen. I bit my lip, then sighed and dropped the paper onto the lectern.

"Well, I just found out that speeches should always be written in waterproof ink," I said wryly. "I think that overlooking something so basic would have amused Grandma. Over the past week, I've seen her kind of built up in the press to be this sort of mythological figure, which she decidedly was not. I can practically hear her snort at the notion. Her accomplishments are many, her skills were undoubted, and she was a towering figure socially, professionally, and in our family. While she wasn't loved by all, those of us who do love her love everything about her. I remember once, in the fall before I went to college, she was taking a flight through the apple orchard by the house. I was up on the roof, I like to stargaze, and I saw her run into a tree, because she had been watching the play of clouds across the moon rather than watching where she was going. She wasn't hurt, and she got a laugh out of it. A bit later.

"That was one of the things I like the most about her, actually. She never took herself too seriously, and she tried actively to prevent that in the people around her. She's an extraordinary woman, but she was still human, after all, and as prone to failure and faltering as any of us. The difference, as I see it, is that she always peeled herself off the tree and set off again. I've seen her so mad she couldn't control her wings, which was a really amazing sight, they were huge and beautiful, in pain, discouraged, worried, hurt. And joyful, interested, loving, caring, and just enjoying whatever it was she was doing. She wasn't afraid to tell you if you were in the wrong about something, but she was equally quick with praise and to admit that she was wrong. I like to remember as she so often was: happy and productive, always ready to give advice if asked, ready to celebrate anybody's success or to go into action. Grandma did like a party," I said, smiling. 'It's hard to do verb tenses right now. She's gone from this life, but we know that she is elsewhere, hopefully enjoying an interesting and productive afterlife. But not too peaceful, she gets bored.

"It's tempting just to point to her undeniable achievements as a warrior and as a historic preservationist, but this doesn't really tell you, I feel, much about the woman herself. She was much more than her accomplishments. For example, because she introduced Uncle Tony to Aunt Ann, she liked to think that she was a matchmaker, but this was really her only success in that arena, and that was because her daughter Martha knew Ann and brought her to a party. She also tried to mediate peace between me and other parties, and that didn't work out either. But you've got to admire her drive to make people's lives better." I laughed, suddenly, remembering some of her notable flops.