Eulogy for Grandmother :: Eulogies Eulogy

plaudit for GrandmotherI looked at myself in the mirror. I observe the lines of my impudence and the curve of my neck. I looked down at my reach call up the bite I first realized that they looked like hers. Long, thin, delicate hands staring(a) for playing the piano or braiding cornrows. All my carriage I had not noticed until the day I sat at her bedside belongings her hand in mine. She had told me that she was not afraid to die. We sat in shut up for a long time, sometimes sharing a glance and a smile. I dont know how long I sat there, facial expression at her, realizing for the first time who I looked so much like. As I stood in front of the mirror, I finded that day as I disposed(p) for her funeral. Sarah Smith, my grandmothers going home day. My father asked me to do her eulogy. I had musical theme and supposition of what to say. The words didnt add together until the morning of her funeral. That morning I went to the lake where me, my brothers, and my sister wou ld go swimming in the summer on weekend visits to my grandmothers. As I soaked in the sun and watched its rays dance on the waters a memory came. As a child there were yet 2 people that I would let touch my sensory hair, my mother and my grandmother. Cornrowing my hair was an military issue when my grandmother did it. She would take me out on the stoop, bringing a pass for herself, and I would sit in front of her with my head in the midst of her knees. woful my head in reaction to the slightest direction from her hands became natural. another(prenominal) women and children would come and sit while she picked out my hair and greased my scalp. I would get word to the women talk. I dont remember anything that was said but I do remember the comfort of the stoop and my grandmothers fingers doing magic in my hair.Sitting on the bobfloat I realized that I had never known my grandmothers smell story. I dont know the struggles she must have had as a vague cleaning lady in the So uth raising two sons alone because her save squeeze her, and she had told him enough was enough. I dont know what it was that kept her going by dint of poverty. I do know that her trust and love in beau ideal was deep rooted in her heart.Eulogy for Grandmother Eulogies EulogyEulogy for GrandmotherI looked at myself in the mirror. I noticed the lines of my face and the curve of my neck. I looked down at my hands remembering the moment I first realized that they looked like hers. Long, thin, delicate hands perfect for playing the piano or braiding cornrows. All my life I had not noticed until the day I sat at her bedside holding her hand in mine. She had told me that she was not afraid to die. We sat in silence for a long time, sometimes sharing a stare and a smile. I dont know how long I sat there, looking at her, realizing for the first time who I looked so much like. As I stood in front of the mirror, I remembered that day as I prepared for her funeral. Sarah Smith, my gran dmothers going home day. My father asked me to do her eulogy. I had thought and thought of what to say. The words didnt come until the morning of her funeral. That morning I went to the lake where me, my brothers, and my sister would go swimming in the summer on weekend visits to my grandmothers. As I soaked in the sun and watched its rays dance on the waters a memory came. As a child there were only two people that I would let touch my hair, my mother and my grandmother. Cornrowing my hair was an event when my grandmother did it. She would take me out on the stoop, bringing a chair for herself, and I would sit in front of her with my head between her knees. Moving my head in reaction to the slightest direction from her hands became natural. Other women and children would come and sit while she picked out my hair and greased my scalp. I would listen to the women talk. I dont remember anything that was said but I do remember the comfort of the stoop and my grandmothers fingers doing magic in my hair.Sitting on the dock I realized that I had never known my grandmothers life story. I dont know the struggles she must have had as a black woman in the South raising two sons alone because her husband beat her, and she had told him enough was enough. I dont know what it was that kept her going through poverty. I do know that her trust and love in God was deeply rooted in her heart.