My grandmother, Big Mom...

I read this eulogy at my grandmother's funeral. At my family's request, the text is posted here in full.

The people gathered here today called the woman whose life we’re celebrating by many names: she was a wife, a mother, a sister, a grandmother – but, perhaps the name she was best known by, was Big Mom.

At 5 foot some inches tall and never reaching 100 lbs. , Big Mom was, by no means, big in stature. When I was little, my friends would giggle when I would tell them I had a Big Mom and she was littler than my “regular” Mom.

But, what she lacked in stature, she made up for in personality.

She was notorious for calling it as she saw it – my father has told me this story since I was little but when he first met Big Mom, it was a Sunday morning and he was picking up my mom to go to King’s Dominion, a theme park outside of Richmond. He rang the doorbell and Big Mom answered – surprised, he said, “Oh, Ms. Phillips, I thought you would be at church.”

Without missing a beat, Big Mom looked him up and down, obviously noting his tennis shoes, shorts, t-shirt and said “And, it looks like you just came from church.”

I was really young when my grandfather and Big Mom’s husband, Big Dad, passed away; and the timing between that day and when Big Mom moved in with my parents and I is hazy, at best. I remember when she fell and broke her hip in my parents’ kitchen on a visit to New Jersey and I remember the drive to the hospital that night – I was maybe 8 years old, she was around 82 or 83 – old enough that we knew a fall of that magnitude and a life altering hip break could have been fatal. But, it wasn’t – after a hip replacement and intense rounds of physical therapy, Big Mom came back from that fall with a vengeance.

That was 15 years ago.

She was a force in my house – never underestimate the power of having your mother’s mother around when you’re a pre-teen and a teenager – Big Mom was always there when I needed a shoulder to cry on, or when life was too tough. If Mom and Dad wouldn’t give me any more allowance, Big Mom could always find a “chore” for me to do to earn that $5. Or, when all the crazy hormones were flying in my teen years, Big Mom would always be the one to tell me that I was beautiful and that my mother was the one who was nuts (even if it was clearly me.)

Even as she became increasingly unable to cook and clean and do laundry for herself, she maintained a fierce independence. If she could do it for herself, she did it; and she did it without fear.

She was a proud woman: proud of her family, proud of her grandkids and her great-grandkids; and fearless of “old age.” She read the Bible and studied it in books with increasingly larger fonts; she completed crossword puzzle after crossword puzzle to keep her mind sharp. She had an uncanny ability to win Yahtzee game after Yahtzee game. And, she loved Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune. If you had the chance to watch Watson the supercomputer on Jeopardy the other day – well, Big Mom was kinda like that.

We used to say that Big Mom was like a cat – she had 9 lives. When she would get sick or something would happen where we would need to go to the hospital, this family would rally around her. Many people here spent countless nights with Big Mom in the hospital. We’ve read her many Bible verses, completed many crossword puzzles with her.

About 2 years ago, Doctors thought that it might be Big Mom’s time. She seemed to understand that this was the consensus – all of the family came to visit her in the hospital. We were filling out a crossword puzzle and no one could figure out a 4-letter word for a musical instrument when, from the hospital bed, we heard her faintly say, “Oboe.”

Later that week, Big Mom and I had a few minutes alone in the hospital. She looked at me and said, “I think I might die, now.” We always had a relationship where I was very honest with her and I told her, honestly, “I think you might, too.” She seemed to process this information for a minute, and then she said – “But, maybe not.”

She was right – it wasn’t her time, then. But it was her time, now.

Now, you can be sad – I’m sure there’ve been many tears these last few days as we mourn our loss of such a powerful light in all of our lives; but I’d like you to think about this: Big Mom was alive to see every major life event of all of her grandchildren. That’s a blessing.

Even more so – Big Mom was around to have real relationships with all of her great-grandchildren. That’s a blessing.

She wrote in the front of her Bible the “Keys to a Happy New Year” from Norman Vincent Peale’s “The Power of Positive Thinking:”

“Keep your heart free from hate, your mind from worry. Live simply, give much. Fill your life with love. Scatter sunshine, forget self. Do as you would be done to. Try this for a week and you will be surprised.”

Big Mom didn’t just try that for a week – she tried for all 97 years of her life. We could do worse than to emulate her habits.

Saturday morning, my mother was going through some of Big Mom’s Bibles. The Bible surprised her when it fell open to a verse Big Mom, herself, had bracketed off. 2 Timothy, 4: 6-8:

“I say this because I won’t be around to help you very much longer. My time has almost run out. Very soon now I will be on my way to heaven. I have fought long and hard for my Lord, and through it all I have kept true to him. And now the time has come for me to stop fighting and rest. In heaven a crown is waiting for me which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on that great day of his return. And not just to me, but to all those whose lives show that they are eagerly looking forward to his coming again.”

For those of us that saw Big Mom after she passed, I’d like to offer this: Big Mom lost her husband almost 20 years ago, her friends have gone through the years, her two favorite dogs – Maddy and Samantha – are gone. And the woman was convinced by doctors for the past 60 years that a sugary dessert would put her in the grave. Can you imagine a world without chocolate?

She staid for us. She lived for us and for the Lord. Now it’s time to let her go be with all of the others who she loved and lost in order to be there for us.

Big Mom passed with her mouth open but, if I had to hedge my bets, I’m willing to say that she wasn’t trying to say Goodbye to all of us – that was what the Bible verse was for.

She was about to say a big ol’ “Hello” to the Lord, take her crown and hold hands with Big Dad. She was about to feed Maddy and Samantha from a dinner table in heaven. She was about to eat a huge piece of chocolate cake.

Now is the time for Big Mom to stop fighting and rest. She scattered her sunshine. She filled her life with love.

And, though we mourn OUR loss of this woman whom we loved, we must also celebrate her life and now, her time in heaven.

Come to think of it, Big Mom was really a pretty “Big” person, afterall.

Let us pray:

Dear God,

It’s me, Kimmi. I’m down here with a whole bunch of people who want to let you know that you’ve got a very special lady up there with you. If you could see it in your heart to give her a message for us, we’d appreciate it: We love you, Big Mom. We thank you for the years of love and devotion and sunshine you gave us. We thank you for your life devoted to Christ and the example you set for us to live up to. We thank you for being a true Christian and for loving us and being there for us. You are missed more than you could possibly know.

God, thank you for letting us have her as long as we could – we know heaven is a better place now for her presence. Please provide us with the comfort we need to mourn our loss and still celebrate her life. Please keep her safe and, God? Get that Yahtzee board fired up for her. She likes that.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.