My grandma’s memorial is this afternoon in Alexandria Virginia and my Aunt Julie has agreed to read a small message from me since I can’t be there. Here’s what I wrote.
The best part about someone else reading your statement is that you can write whatever you want and they have to read it.
Hello, my name is Julie and I LOVE to wear pink.
But, seriously, this is a message from Grandma Porter’s granddaughter, Kristin, who lives in Europe.
She says,
“For me, funerals are a celebration of life, rather than a lamentation of death, and to that end, I’d like to share three moments we shared that made me realize that Grandma is one of the fiercest, bravest women I have ever had the honour of knowing. And I’m so thankful that we’re related because now I can blame my obsession with sprinkles, my twisted sense of humor and my urge to buck the system on her.
Grandma always kept sprinkles in the house for me.
Sure, it might’ve also been for other kids or MAYBE for Grandpa, but I always thought of them as MY sprinkles.
And, of course, there was always plenty of ice cream.
One night, I was eating ice cream with sprinkles and enjoying it so much that after I finished everything that could be scooped with a spoon, I started finishing it up by licking the bowl.
Grandma was aghast.
