Thoughts on my mother's eulogy

I've adopted a New Years' sort-of resolution. I've come to the realization lately that I really like to write, and it seems I'm kind of good at it (note my correct usage of parentheses here; my English teachers' time was not wasted). So I've resolved to write at least once piece a week for my blog, which has been sadly unused for the better part of a decade. Be warned: I tend to write kind of long, but fortunately, the Internet doesn't charge per word, at least not yet. Plus, it's my blog, and I'll blather if I want to, with apologies to Lesley Gore.

You see, I've been bereft of ideas for some time now--call it terminal writer's block. I've had some really tragic thing happen in the past year (one of which I'll go into shortly), and it put me in a strange, sad, disconnected place for a while there. But recently, I've begun blowing the dust off some old projects, and starting some new ones, so the writer's disease appears to be heading toward remission. I feel in some strange way that I need to do my part to push the process along. But there's the rub--how do you break writer's block, and actually do some writing when you have nothing to write about because you have writer's block?


I mulled this over and found a solution that might solve two things at one time. To explain, I'll jump back almost a year, to when my mother, Elaine, passed away from an evil combination of heart valve failure and stroke. Knowing that she was not really a fan of organized religion, but recognizing that funerals really aren't for the dead (they're held so the rest of us that are still stuck in this plane of existence can have the closure of comforting ritual), I decided that the only thing I could really do would be to perform her ceremony myself. For the record, officiating a funeral--for anyone, not to mention someone you cared about very deeply--turned out to be much more overwhelming than I ever thought it could be, and I would not recommend it to anyone. Ever. I can't say it was a mistake, though, for in the end, I finally realized that I did it only partly out of necessity. The more I examined myself, the more I discovered that I had chosen to do something so monumentally difficult just to keep myself busy, to hold off on experiencing my own grief for as long as was possible. Bear in mind that I genuinely feel that I honored her beliefs by performing the ceremony, but I didn't realize how much of it I was doing for myself until later. I found out I really, really don't like grief, but I guess nobody does.

And there's another thing that needs to at least be mentioned here: My old "buddy" Death came calling again, almost exactly three months later. This time, he came for Elaine's mother, Lola (perhaps better known as simply "Granny"); her daughter's funeral would be the last one she would attend before her own. I won't go into that at the moment, as this is Elaine's entry, but I'll write more about it in my next posts--it was at least equally devastating to me, if not even more so after losing my mother, and deserves more than a mere mention.

But for now, back to Elaine's funeral. It turned out fairly well, in spite of a late start, and in spite of the fact that I hadn't completed the eulogy portion until the day of the event, right before I spoke the words. Looking back, I now know that I couldn't bring myself to dig deep enough to figure out what I wanted to say. I had avoided my grief completely until the eulogy was delivered. I'm even having some trouble writing about this now... the best way I can explain it is that it feels like my grief is water in a balloon, memories of Elaine and Granny bonded together like molecules of H2O. Scratch just a hair too deep, push just a touch too hard, and whoosh--down the rabbit hole I go, ne'er to return.

So for now, the balloon remains intact. I'll deal with this in my own time, as we all must. I'll write more about this later. It feels kind of good to talk about this, whether anybody's listening or not.

Now, back to the part about taking care of two things at once. I spoke of the first one--to make a blog post every week. Well, the eulogy was written some time ago, and I liked what I came up with (considering as haphazard as it feels to me), so it made sense to use that as one of the pieces. First problem solved. The second thing is responding to the handful of folks who had wanted a copy of my remarks at the funeral. Some people really seemed to like it, and I made vague promises of sending it out, but can't really remember who I talked to after delivering the piece (or much else for that matter), so I never have. Publishing the comments I delivered at Elaine's funeral addresses both of these things. And as everyone knows, I'm all about efficiency (well, maybe at work, at least. Not so much in my personal life; it's kind of cluttered and messy).

So I guess that's it for now. I'm working the prayer and eulogy into a second post right after this one. Then, in the next few days, I'll do the same for Granny's eulogy. Feel free to comment or send me an email if you like. And as a closing thought: I can't remember if I adequately expressed my gratefulness for those who came. It really meant a lot to me to see so many people drive out to Okay, Oklahoma to say goodbye. And I know Elaine would have thought it was pretty great as well.

Eulogy for my mother

As promised, here is a selection of my remarks made at the funeral of my mother, Elaine, beginning with the opening prayer, followed by the published obituary, and finally the eulogy itself.

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Opening Prayer

(Note: My mother was a wonderfully unorthodox woman who had her own way of looking at life and the world in general. Her religion was a smattering of different beliefs that made the most sense to her, and this is what she lived by. I tried very hard to write an opening prayer that she herself might have written, and after talking to her friends, I think I came close to capturing the essence of what she would have wanted me to say.)

Heavenly Father / Mother, and Lord of Creation Jesus Christ:

We’re gathered today to mourn the loss and celebrate the life of Elaine Underwood, who was—and still is—our friend, our boon companion, our lover, our teacher, and our mother. We’ve come to this beautiful and natural place to be closer to your creation, to feel your love around us as we remember her and comfort those who most closely feel the sting of her loss. Although our hearts may be heavy, we pray this day to ask nothing of you; we live in your strength and we know that you will help us walk on despite our loss—our prayer is not one of petition.

Instead, this day, we pray to simply give you thanks. Thank you for giving us your gift of Elaine. Thank you for the times she was there to listen, for she had nothing but sympathy for her fellow person. Thank you for the times she was there to teach, for she had so much to teach us all. And thank you for the times she simply was; those times when she would light up the room just by walking into it, cheering us with her laughter. We have today the deepest gratitude for the lifetime of good experiences she was able to share with us. And even though her time with us feels so very short, we thank you for allowing her to be here for as long as you did. Her memory will live on in us, and for that memory of a life so well lived, we have the greatest gratitude of all.

In Light, in Love, and in the Power of Jesus,
Amen.

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Obituary


Elaine Wade Underwood, most recently of Hanna, departed this world on March 13th, 2012 in Tahlequah. She had just turned 62, and had been fighting a long battle with chronic heart disease.

She was born Elaine Mix in Oklahoma City on March 5th, 1950 to Roy and Lola Mix of Muskogee. She grew up in southern Muskogee, attending McClain and Elm Grove Elementary Schools, spending long summer days riding her bicycle and performing in roller-skating shows at Stardust Skate Arena. She progressed to Alice Robertson Junior High School and Central High School, graduating with the class of 1967, then continued on to Bacone College.

During school, she married longtime boyfriend Wendell Underwood. Although they later divorced, they stayed in touch through the years, and their union provided them with one son, Bret, and eventually grandchildren. After college, Elaine worked at a few starter jobs before finding a home at Brockway Glass Company, from which she eventually retired after 20-plus years of service. She lived in Muskogee almost all of her life until her move to Hanna approximately three years ago.

Elaine often enjoyed activities that might seem outside her age group—playing video games and having hours-long teenager-like phone conversations, for example. As a proud Democrat, she often sparked political discussions on topics of the day. She enjoyed nature and outdoor settings, as evidenced by her many trips to area parks and marinas, where she was fond of boating and fishing. She was a prolific writer and poet; seeing her work published in a volume of the Anthology of American Poets was a highlight of her life, as well as a source of pride for her family. But above all this, Elaine particularly loved the company of her good friends. She had so many of them, from so many different backgrounds, that she never had to look far to find her next adventure (or at least a good story).

She was preceded in death by her father, Roy; her grandmother, Ada Brock; two aunts, Leola Johnson and Juanita Moore; and a daughter-in-law, Hayley Mix, as well as her beloved pets Cocoa the dog and Thomas the cat. She is survived by her mother, Lola; a son, Bret Mix; a daughter-in-law, Amy Mix; and two grandchildren, Autumn Mix and Andy Horton, all of Glenpool; an aunt, Oleta Humphrey; and an uncle, Guinn Dale Brock, both of Muskogee; and a multitude of dear friends—to list them all would likely require a full page of this newspaper.


(The obituary concludes with a rundown of the event details, which for some reason is not in my document. I'll update this when I find it.)

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Eulogy

Obituaries serve a useful purpose… they encapsulate the dates, times, and major happenings in a person’s life. But unfortunately, they don’t really give a complete picture of someone in such a short space. So how does one describe a person like my mother, much less give a sense of who she was and what she was about? With a well that is so deep, where does one begin? You can start with basic attributes: her kindness, her giving sense, her ability to see the good in most any situation. But we can go deeper than that by saying that she was one of the few individuals I’ve ever met that truly understood the Golden Rule of treating others as you would have them treat you. I remember so many times, visiting  her, that I would find some new person there that I hadn’t met, but was a lifelong friend of Elaine’s, even though they had just met.

Her giving nature was accentuated by her sense of humor—never mocking or sarcastic, but always the gentle humor of a good friend. Don’t get me wrong, she had her moments, and her good friends know what I’m talking about—but they were few and far between. She was literally the beginning of my life, and she was always there for me, at least in spirit, even if she couldn’t be there in person. I always knew she was walking with me, just as I know the same now.

If she were here today, I would first apologize for a ceremony that feels kind of thrown together, but she’d say that was fine, and ask me why I didn’t play any hard rock, and I would explain that that’s for later. She would likely shoot me a funny look and wander off to chat with everybody. But before she left, I would take her aside and thank her, for everything she has done for me… because everything I am, and everything I will be, came from her. Thank you, Elaine, for helping to make me the person I am, and for helping so many others become the people they were meant to be as well.

I love you, Mom.