A Eulogy for Grandma Mary

Grandma asked me a while ago if I would speak at her service and I agreed so I have had a while to think about this in the abstract, until a week ago everything became suddenly very real. I wrote it down so that there wouldn’t be as much room to stumble or falter into crying. But I probably will, and you can too, if you like. There is no shame or weakness in shedding tears for the passing of Grandma Mary. It is only human. To tell you about my Grandma I am going to tell you a story, then talk about Grandma, and finally talk about the most important things she taught me. 

So, the story. Once upon a time, and for as long as I was alive, and some time before that Grandma Mary and Grandpa Richard Swinburne and Grandma Beulah and Grandpa Willard Stenerson lived across highway 2 from one another. The Swinburnes were on the Walkerbrook side and the Stenersons were towards Blueberry Hill. They had been friends since high school and shared a special kinship. For as long as I can remember, at around 8:00 every night, Grandpa Willard would call Grandpa Richard to check in. They might not talk about anything important. They may only talk for 5 minutes. They would talk for a while, then a Grandpa would hand a Grandma the phone, then the other. They would ask about their kids. They would ask about their family and their health. They would talk about who was born, married, and died. Then they would say goodnight and that would be that. I don’t know for how long that ritual went on like that? 20 years, at least. Decades.

My Grandpa Willard died in July of 2000. I was not there, but spoke at his service. We mourned together. Cried together. Held each other. And from that point on, at right around 8:00, Grandpa Richard would call Grandma Beulah. Grandpa might only get a few sentences out before handing the phone to Grandma Mary. But then they would talk about their kids, their grandkids, birthdays, holidays, and the latest marriage/birth/death news. Some nights they might not talk about anything important. They might only talk for 5 minutes. They would say goodnight and that would be that. 

My Grandpa Richard died in June of 2008. He wanted to pass at home and Grandma Mary arranged it with hospice. He died surrounded by love and family, but it was a hard day for the Swinburnes. It was a hard day for everyone who knew and loved Grandpa. But none more so than Grandma Mary. Even through the hardest times, Grandma loved Grandpa so much it is hard to describe. That night at 8:00 and every night until she died, Grandma Beulah called Grandma Mary to check in.

Grandma Beulah was diagnosed with terminal organ failure in April of 2009 and I being between school and without work volunteered to be her caregiver so that she could pass at home. You may not know it, but angels walk among us disguised as hospice workers. With the help of hospice and my family we made Grandma as comfortable and happy as we could through the rest of 2009. She passed in early January of 2010. That night, probably nowhere near 8:00, I called Grandma Mary with the bad news. I would rarely make the 8:00 goal, but for the next 14 years I called Grandma Mary almost every night. We might not talk about anything important. We might only talk for 5 minutes. But we also talked about some pretty amazing stuff. The births of her great grandkids. A couple college graduations. Moving to Turtle River. Global Pandemic. No matter what else, we ended the call with the same affirmation. I love you. And I love you, too. 5,351 phone calls.

The obituary serves a function to present a very specific set of facts that often fail to adequately describe who a person was. That is the function of the eulogy, to expand on those facts and explain the unexplained factors. To begin let me explain to you that Mary Swinburne was the kindest person you could ever meet. She wanted to see your baby and would genuinely compliment your hair. There are baby blankets she made all over the greater Clearwater and Beltrami County areas. If you meet someone in Clearwater county today there’s a one in three chance my Grandma made you a blanket at one time. Grandma Mary would be kind to people, but to her family, she was a caregiver. Kindness is too small a word, to describe Mary Swinburne. 

Let me explain to you that Mary Swinburne was the most generous person you could ever meet. Grandpa Richard could walk in the door with a half dozen workers covered from head to toe with manure, and Grandma Mary would make sure that no one went home hungry. Grandpa drove the cattle, but Swinburne Trucking was a family business and Grandma was the beating heart. I went to Kindergarten and first grade in Bagley and got off the bus at the Swinburnes. I would walk in the door and there was always a treat, a beverage, and a cartoon waiting for me. Grandma Mary learned to program satellite dishes in the mid 80s and could find you Sesame Street in any language at any hour of the day. I didn’t realize at that time they were the best times. I didn’t understand that when Grandpa Richard would ask if I wanted to stay another 20 years, he was really saying I love you.  

But of all of these things, I need to explain to you that Mary Swinburne was strong. Strong in all the most important ways a person should be. She grew up in a time and place where you had to be strong. When you had to walk to the one room schoolhouse, through heat, and through snow. Where you had to farm if you wanted to eat. Perhaps her greatest strength was her nursing, which later became caregiving throughout her life. She was a caregiver to her children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. She was a caregiver to her mother and step father, as they aged and passed. She was a caregiver to Grandpa Richard as he aged and struggled with his health. She did it all with the quiet grace of a saint. She did it all without complaint or remorse. To those of us who knew and loved her, we know she loved us too, and wanted us to be healthy and happy.

My Grandma Mary has taught me some things that I want to share, because they are important for all of us. I thought I knew what love was and how it operated until I found out I had no idea. Grandma Mary told me a story and created a whole new way of understanding it. She told me that later in his life, when Grandpa was having a hard time getting around, sometimes she would help him to bed and they would miss. “He wouldn’t fall” Grandma would clarify, “He just sort of slid down to the ground.” And if it was early enough, they would call Wayne to come over and help lift him into bed. But if it was too late, then Grandma would take her pillow and their blanket, cover them up, and sleep on the floor next to Grandpa. My Grandma taught me that love is humble. That love comes to meet you where you are. Even, and especially if, that place is the floor. 

The year that Grandpa passed, I spent Christmas Eve with Grandma Mary, so she wouldn’t have to be alone. It didn’t seem like six months had passed, since he had left us. That night, as I settled in on the couch, I heard my Grandma Mary cry. Not in a way I had heard her cry before or ever since. It was a sound so full of anguish, sorrow, and loneliness, that I felt my heart fall from my chest and shatter into a million pieces, incapable of being put back together the same way. I felt my whole universe shift with my supposed knowledge of what love was being wholly upended. In that moment, I learned that love is forever. It lingers in the empty rooms, in the quiet moments when no one else is around. Love doesn’t fade with time; it remains. Rooted within, even when those we love are no longer here. My Grandma Mary taught me that true love transcends time and space—it’s a force that binds us to one another, even after our loved ones have passed.

The final lesson Grandma taught me about love is happening now. It’s that you can get 5,300 'I love yous' and still long for just one more. This is not greed, but humanity. A reminder that love is forever, but we are not. Instead, we are tasked with carrying that love onward. What I learned, and share with you, is that this sadness, this loneliness, these tears, are not the sensation of love leaving the body, but entrenching within it. Moving in for the long haul. The pain we feel is love etching onto the folds of our minds, carving into the walls of our hearts, and chiseling into the marble of our souls. It is a pain we suffer to save this love. The love we will carry until we can lift it no longer. It has always and forever been in transit. Love moving from generation to generation, like a candle sheltered in a storm. To those we leave behind it is a wondrous gift, for them to carry forward.  

This eulogy comes with a mission for everyone who hears or reads this. You will leave this place, and some day, somewhere out of the blue, you may think about a loved one, and you will feel the urge to reach out to them. But then you will start to hear these voices telling you not to, that they’re too busy, that this isn’t a good time, that you’ll do it later. Your mission is to tell those voices to shut up, to be brave, throw caution to the wind, and reach out to the ones you love. Tell them you remembered them. Tell them that you were thinking about them. Tell them a funny story about your day. Ask them how they are. Check in. Be present. You might not talk about anything important. You might only talk for five minutes. But maybe they needed someone to talk to for weeks and were too afraid to ask? Maybe you reaching out to them lifted them up, when they were down? Maybe you calling them was the happiest part of their day? Your mission, should you choose to accept it.

As we gather to honor the life of Grandma Mary, let us take her lessons to heart. Love is humble. Love is forever., but we are not. We carry love forward. When you leave here today, I ask you to remember the love that Grandma Mary so generously gave to all of us. Whether it was a meal, a conversation, or a lifetime. We honor her and keep her legacy alive—by spreading the love she shared with us, one call, one conversation, one cup of coffee, and one small act of kindness at a time. I love you, Grandma. I miss you. Hug Grandpa and Kim for me.

JT