On 11 September 2006 my Gran, Nan Calder, died. 31 years and two days after her husband Jim Calder, and one week before her 90th birthday. I've know her my whole life - she was very involved in bringing me up and I miss her. Here is the eulogy I delivered at her funeral - it tries to do the impossible, it tries to summarise 90 years of life.
"Facts & figures don’t tell Nan Calder’s story!Word’s like Care giver, home-maker resilient and loving person do. But a few facts and figures serve to remind us of what a remarkable person she was, what a survivor.
• Born during the great war, bringing up children during the second world war – but she survived• Caught the Spanish flu that killed one quarter of the world’s population in 1918 – but she survived.• Widowed for 31 years – but she survived• Broke a hip in her 80’s – but she survived• Broke the other hip – but she survived• Confined to a wheelchair recently – but she survived
• Danced twice a week until she was over 80 – and she prospered• Married 38 years, lived nearly 90 – and she prospered
• Directly responsible for 22 people on this planet – and she prospered
And her many roles to us all…..
• Daughter, sister, wife, aunt, mother, friend, confidant, grand-mother, great grand-mother, and just recently great great grandmother
And other numerous other things too:
• A baker, a marmalade maker, a bramble picker, an amateur actor, a knitter, a babysitter, a crossword lover, a gardener, – the list is long! But if I had to settle for one word I’d say loving!
Then there’s the things I remember….
Like the time the Doctor suggested she have the odd menthol cigarette ‘for nerves’. I remember her sitting in her kitchen manfully dragging on a cigarette and hating it. She looked up and said ‘..but the Doctor said it’s good for me..’
* Like when she told me of her summer holidays staying with her mother’s 15 brothers and sisters in a room in kitchen in Springside
* Like trips to Blackpool winter gardens, me dancing round the floor standing on her feet – then off to see the clown Charlie Corollie
* Like the time we stayed in a B&B in Dublin near the start of the troubles the night they blew up Nelson’s column. I remember her trying to explain to me aged five why the 200 foot column we had seen the day before was now a pile of rubble.
* Like getting the train to Glasgow on a Saturday simply to go to British Home Stores for a pot of tea.
* Like making me my tea most nights when I came home from school – like her mother did with my school lunches when I was at primary school.
* Like flying to Dublin on her own well into her 70’s to visit her long standing friend Valerie, the Dublin Landlady.
* Like reading the racing pages for her mostly blind father on a Saturday afternoon
* Like taking tea with her sister Betty at BHS in Ayr on their visits into town and discussing the antics of the swans on the river below as they sat.
* Like taking coach trips around Europe with her friends well into her 70’s
* Or like just 3 weeks ago – visiting the Ayr flower show in the rain – she held the umbrella while I pushed the chair. She liked the begonias, but didn’t like the crowds.
But now we no longer hear her voice, though it is she who brought us together and who does so again today.
Now it falls to all of us who loved her to continue the example she set us. Her spirit continues to light the way. Her spirit lives on in the eyes of those 22 people She cannot go on with us now but as Moses said to the children of Israel when he knew he would not cross over into the promised land:
‘be strong and of good courage. Fear not, for God will go with you’
We were all of us fortunate that, in that famous Irish phrase, Nan Calder lived to comb grey hair. Like her mother and father before her she had every gift including length of years.
The Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for mourning, never speaks of death, but speaks of peace and speaks of fortitude.
Its closing words say:
may our hearts find a measure of comfort and our souls the eternal touch of hope.
• Born during the great war, bringing up children during the second world war – but she survived• Caught the Spanish flu that killed one quarter of the world’s population in 1918 – but she survived.• Widowed for 31 years – but she survived• Broke a hip in her 80’s – but she survived• Broke the other hip – but she survived• Confined to a wheelchair recently – but she survived
• Danced twice a week until she was over 80 – and she prospered• Married 38 years, lived nearly 90 – and she prospered
• Directly responsible for 22 people on this planet – and she prospered
And her many roles to us all…..
• Daughter, sister, wife, aunt, mother, friend, confidant, grand-mother, great grand-mother, and just recently great great grandmother
And other numerous other things too:
• A baker, a marmalade maker, a bramble picker, an amateur actor, a knitter, a babysitter, a crossword lover, a gardener, – the list is long! But if I had to settle for one word I’d say loving!
Then there’s the things I remember….
Like the time the Doctor suggested she have the odd menthol cigarette ‘for nerves’. I remember her sitting in her kitchen manfully dragging on a cigarette and hating it. She looked up and said ‘..but the Doctor said it’s good for me..’
* Like when she told me of her summer holidays staying with her mother’s 15 brothers and sisters in a room in kitchen in Springside
* Like trips to Blackpool winter gardens, me dancing round the floor standing on her feet – then off to see the clown Charlie Corollie
* Like the time we stayed in a B&B in Dublin near the start of the troubles the night they blew up Nelson’s column. I remember her trying to explain to me aged five why the 200 foot column we had seen the day before was now a pile of rubble.
* Like getting the train to Glasgow on a Saturday simply to go to British Home Stores for a pot of tea.
* Like making me my tea most nights when I came home from school – like her mother did with my school lunches when I was at primary school.
* Like flying to Dublin on her own well into her 70’s to visit her long standing friend Valerie, the Dublin Landlady.
* Like reading the racing pages for her mostly blind father on a Saturday afternoon
* Like taking tea with her sister Betty at BHS in Ayr on their visits into town and discussing the antics of the swans on the river below as they sat.
* Like taking coach trips around Europe with her friends well into her 70’s
* Or like just 3 weeks ago – visiting the Ayr flower show in the rain – she held the umbrella while I pushed the chair. She liked the begonias, but didn’t like the crowds.
But now we no longer hear her voice, though it is she who brought us together and who does so again today.
Now it falls to all of us who loved her to continue the example she set us. Her spirit continues to light the way. Her spirit lives on in the eyes of those 22 people She cannot go on with us now but as Moses said to the children of Israel when he knew he would not cross over into the promised land:
‘be strong and of good courage. Fear not, for God will go with you’
We were all of us fortunate that, in that famous Irish phrase, Nan Calder lived to comb grey hair. Like her mother and father before her she had every gift including length of years.
The Kaddish, the Jewish prayer for mourning, never speaks of death, but speaks of peace and speaks of fortitude.
Its closing words say:
may our hearts find a measure of comfort and our souls the eternal touch of hope.
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