Eulogy for Grandma and Grandad

Susan Edelberg

Grandma and Grandad shared beautiful timeless love. Their lifelong companionship, along with Grandad’s chivalry and Grandma’s beloved place in his heart, is captured in a handmade card he made for her birthday one year. Written on card stock and decorated with a heart colored in with pink magic marker, it reads:

Eulogy to Grandad

That card is also indicative of Grandad as a person. Not only was he a loving husband, father, and grandfather, he was also a youthful optimist, an artist, a hopeful romantic, respectful of women (and all people), having a lust for life that continued right up until his final moments. And the list goes on: Grandad was a scientist, a WWII navigator, a world traveller, a psychophysiology professor, an English as a Second Language tutor, an avid reader and excellent writer, a humanitarian, a nature lover, a backyard astronomer, a watercolor painter, a master of gadgetry, a home coffee roaster and connoisseur of perfectly toasted bagels, a beloved friend to all who met him … and he was the 90-year-old man who picked up his granddaughter from the Philadelphia airport because he legitimately could still drive well. Yet there is still so much more that he was.

Grandad was kind, clever, wise, and endearingly funny like a comic strip from the 1950’s. He had a timeless smile and lovely laugh that would make your heart melt. As a grandparent he was the embodiment of delightful wholesomeness, and when he hugged me, he always had the exact same comforting smell of home.

One of the many things I loved about him was his childlike wonder that led to his perpetual interest in everything. He wore so many hats that it seemed he was born to do it all. And though he was a jack of all trades, he actually was a master of some.

Yet despite all of his hobbies, interests, and roles in life, he was never too busy to spend time with those he loved. He loved nothing more than to sit around the table and talk to you for hours, offering coffee and snacks, or his favorite drink, buttermilk. And afterwards you’d feel satiated from conversation like after a good meal, always having learned something, seen a new perspective, felt a lighter mood and a sense that everything would somehow be okay in the world.

Grandad was a creative force who wasn’t afraid to entertain outlandish ideas. One summer while visiting as a kid I decided I wanted to make my own horror movie. After writing a screenplay I asked Grandad and he agreed — no questions asked — to film, co-direct and star as the ghost in my movie. I had so much fun making that movie with Grandad, and I could tell how much he enjoyed it too. He even edited it for me upon its completion. He was so supportive and wanted nothing more than to help my vision come to life.

Grandad went above and beyond in so many other ways. One snowy Christmas in New Jersey he got up before dawn and managed to somehow quietly hop on his pogo stick on the back porch in the snow to create little reindeer hoofprints. Amongst the prints he left a crimson string — a string dropped from Santa’s sack. Grandad knew how to think like a kid and could pay great attention to detail to make his ideas come to life. It looked so real I completely fell for it. It was the most magical Christmas morning in my life.

Another thing Grandad did that was very special for me as a child was he wrote a letter to me from “the fairy people” and it was written and delivered in such a way that I had no idea he was the author. In the letter the fairy people gave me two powers: one, that whenever I was afraid I would say “fairy” and the fairies would ease my fear; my second power was that every day I would awake with a good feeling, refreshed, at peace, and full of energy. Both of these “powers” definitely helped me through some childhood growing pains. I eventually found out it was he who wrote the letter, but I wasn’t disappointed; instead I was awe-inspired. My very own Grandad was the fairy people!

As I grew older, I began to appreciate Grandad even more for who he was, other than the obvious reason for being my grandfather. I loved to step into his world each time I came to visit. The look, feel, and smell of his study is forever burned into my mind. It was a fusion of his passions, particularly art and science, and it said a lot about who he was. If I close my eyes, I can remember it just like I was there ….

Jars of trailing houseplants cascading down bookshelves filled with volumes on history, science, and world religions; a mess of wires trailing similarly across the floor from his various computers; watercolor paintings hung up to dry by clothespins on a wire; his art studio a table with jars of paint brushes and old medicine bottles filled with Q-tips, tongue depressors, and toothbrushes repurposed as instruments for art; a light-focusing apparatus he built on a yard stick poised high on the bookshelves next to his plants, a barometer and photos of relatives hanging on the wall; framed paintings and small statues throughout; a second desk with stationary, pens, paper weights, and stamps for writing letters, always a magnifying glass and a compass nearby; his pants and shirt for the next day neatly folded over a mahogany valet stand, the smell of molasses, wool sweaters and old books permeating the air. It was a bizarre yet comfortable refuge that will live on forever in my mind.

Eulogy to Grandma

Grandma and Grandad loved and cherished each other dearly. During my last few visits with Grandma, her favorite question to ask me was, “Guess how long Grandad and I have been married?” I’d guess “72 years?” (having just been through a similar round of Q & A). Her eyes lit up and she’d smile ear to ear, partially because I’d “guessed it” but mostly because she loved hearing that number herself. She was so proud of their marriage, and I could see why. As her short-term memory began to fade, she’d start again shortly after, “Guess how long Grandad and I have been married?” And she’d smile as wide as ever, waiting to see if I could guess the extremely high number of years.

Grandma had a smile that lit up her face like a baby, eyes twinkling with unbridled joy. She unleashed that smile every time I saw her and all throughout our time together. Grandma was so full of love to give; she was born to be a loving wife and mother. She expressed her love in so many ways. One way was that she made sure her kitchen was stocked with your favorite foods — for me it was molasses crisp cookies every time I arrived. She gave the best, warmest hugs too.

Grandma loved to create experiences that became past times. Every summer she took me to Terhune Farms to pick strawberries and visit with the farm animals. The most wonderful part was she was just as excited as I was to pick the fruit and feed the old horse, even when over time I was doing more of the picking than she was able to. She maintained her classiness walking through the rows in her wide brimmed sun hat. Even her cane had a beautiful wooden design. She was so warm and friendly to the staff at the farm store that they seemed like family. That farm will always have a special place in my heart thanks to the memories I shared there with Grandma. From then on, every time I eat a strawberry, pass a farm, or stop to pet a horse I think of Grandma.

Like Grandad, Grandma loved nature and the outdoors. Their yard was always a beckoning invitation to plants and wildlife, as well as a display of their appreciation of it. The backyard of their house in Belle Mead was especially magical, and I loved the tours Grandma would take me on: through her garden, various patches of flowers, birdbaths and statutes, majestic evergreens, the field beyond the hedges, and eventually the path beyond that. Grandma would identify birdcalls and she’d give me birdseed to sprinkle on the porch railing. We’d go back inside and watch excitedly through the window until one by one the birds came up to eat. She taught me about all the different birds by their sight and sound: chickadees, wrens, titmouse, finches, woodpeckers, etc. To this day I still love birding because of Grandma.

When Grandma was no longer able to enjoy the great outdoors as actively as she once had, she bought a pedometer and would track her steps every day and tally them up, comparing her steps to a walking map of the United States. One day she exclaimed “I just walked across Rhode Island!” And she hadn’t even left the neighborhood! It was one of the most endearing things I’d ever heard.

Not long after she began her “trek” across the United States, she ordered a subscription to Backpacker magazine. I’ll never forget how one day she sat on the couch eagerly flipping through the pages of the latest edition, and looked at me with a grin, “Yeah I know I’ll never go hiking again, but I still like to get excited about it.” That was Grandma, a dreamer, a lot like me. And not that anyone was judging her (I thought it was a great idea), but she wouldn’t have cared if they were. She knew that half the fun of any trip is the excitement before it. And she also knew there was no reason she should let her aging body take that excitement away from her youthful soul.

Grandma could be stubborn at times; she wasn’t willing to give up the things she loved so easily. She wanted to maintain parts of her life, understandably so, for she and Grandad had lived a wonderful life as “two whole and independent human beings” over those many long happy years.

In Closing

Through the memories, pictures, and stories, Charlotte and Robert Edelberg will continue to live on in all of us that knew them. And there is another way they will continue to live on & I adopted one of the trailing house plants from Grandad’s study, which was left behind in water when he died. I have been keeping it alive and it still grows to this day. The photo accompanying this eulogy is a picture of this plant in a new jar, as it has continued to grow and outgrew its original jar.

Grandma and Grandad, thank you for being who you are and for all you have done and given throughout your lives. I am at peace reflecting on the beautiful life you shared together, and I am lucky to have shared some of it with you. The world is a better place for having had you in it. And I am a better person for having known you. I miss you greatly and will always love you. May you rest together in peace.