Things you should know about me: I love to write, I love to talk, I love to laugh, I love my family, I suck at good byes, and I cry at the drop of a hat. So when I was asked to write a eulogy for my grandma after she passed away on Valentine's Day 2019, I immediately said "yes" (well, after realizing that my grandpa asking if I wanted to be a "eulogist" wasn't some doctor that specialized in whatever body part the eu was... in my defense, we had just spent 4 very long days meeting with every -oloist you can imagine while praying that the right one would walk into the room to help my grandma.. but God had other plans). I really struggled and wrote and rewrote the thing from scratch more times than I can count and I finally clicked Print and wouldn't let myself make any other modifications. I wanted it to be perfect. I wanted it to make people smile, I wanted to try not to cry, I wanted to honor my grandma, and I wanted to point to Christ.
Here's my eulogy. Posting this here mostly for me, but also a little bit so that you can know her better.
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Growing up, my sisters and I were lucky enough to have three sets of grandparents. Our grandparents were never “Grandma and Grandpa Weisenberger” or “Grandma and Grandpa Beatty”. They were never “nana” and “papa”. They had other names.
My dad’s parents are Tiki Grandma and Grandpa (named after their dog Tiki) and Smokey Grandma and Grandpa (also named after a dog, and not because they smoked - which I didn’t learn until about 5 years ago). But my mom’s parents, Chris and Carole Beatty, didn’t have real dogs that we could name them after. I suppose we could have gone with a location-based nickname: so they would have started as “Texas Grandma and Grandpa” and then changed to “Nashville Grandma and Grandpa” and then switched again to “Myrtle Beach Grandma and Grandpa”… but that’s just confusing for everyone. So these grandparents have always been appropriately named: “Singing Grandma and Grandpa”.
This nickname probably makes a lot of sense to most of you – Chris and Carole Beatty are Vocal Coach. But my Grandma was never the singer. You wouldn’t hear her singing a song on stage at a church or a concert hall - that has always been my Grandpa.
She would sing about other things.
She would sing about her Yankees. Actually, if I’m honest, you would probably hear a mixture of her singing about her Yankees and her yelling at her Yankees. If you knew her well, you knew to check if the Yankees were playing before calling her. You knew that in February and March every year she relocated to her home away from home for Spring Training in Florida - where she could sing about them.. and yell at them.. in person.
I would hear her sing about the girly things: nail polish, makeup, and jewelry. My Grandma’s nails were always perfect. I have very distinct memories of being an 11-year-old chatting on AOL Instant Messenger with her singing about what nail polish remover we should be using because the acetone was just making our nails way too weak. When she found a nail color she liked, I would then get that color for Christmas. I remember her painting her toe nails a bright, bright green, and then her singing the story of the fish in the ocean nibbling at her toes. My obsession with always having my nails painted came from her.
Visiting Singing Grandma and Grandpa when we were younger meant going through bags and bags of old Clinique eye shadow, blush, and lipstick.
I was able to go to Nashville and help pack before they moved to Myrtle Beach in 2016, and while sorting through her jewelry I commented that I had always loved this big, silver, heart necklace that she had. She gave it to me without question - while singing a story about how when I was little I would always pop the cold, silver heart in my mouth while she was holding me – I guess I really have always loved it.
I have an obsession with accessories - specifically sunglasses and making sure I match - and I’m fairly certain it comes from watching her get ready in the mornings when we were together.
She would sing about Myrtle Beach. She loved this place. Myrtle Beach is so drastically different than where she lived in Nashville and it was a little difficult for me to picture her here. Even while the house was being built and I got to see floor plans and pictures and videos, and hear her sing about the different cabinets that were being installed and all of the different features being added.. I still couldn’t picture it - I didn’t get it.
And then I came out here.
I feel like I can hear her singing in my ear as I see more and more of Myrtle Beach - and I finally realize that the house was just the perfect cherry on top to why she loved this city. I can now hear her singing about the neighborhood where she lives – where dogs ride shotgun in golf carts, I can hear her singing about the palm trees as they sway in the wind.. and then the wind would be too cold and she’d need a blanket, and I can hear her singing about the friends that she’s made in Market Commons.
And I can hear her singing about this church. My grandparents have a way of being instantly loved and welcomed everywhere they go - whether it’s a new city, a restaurant, a doctor’s office, or the Apple Store, my grandparents always seem to have made new friends - and this church is no exception. I am thankful for the deep friendships that have been built through this church.. I can hear her singing about the people, the relationships, and the teaching. Trinity helped make Myrtle Beach home.
My grandma would sing about my grandpa, Chris Beatty. To my sisters and me, my grandpa has always been Gaston from "Beauty and the Beast" - not because he’s scary and mean (quite the opposite) but us Southern California, born-and-raised girls associated the biggest and strongest character from a Disney movie with the biggest and strongest man in our lives - our grandpa. But to my grandma, he wasn’t Gaston.. He was Prince Charming.
She would sing about their adventures together. She would sing about how much he made her laugh. She would sing about how he was always, always by her side. She would sing about how well he served her. She would sing about how much she loved him. My grandma got to sing with my grandpa for 42 years. She had her happily ever after with her Prince Charming.
But the thing that my grandma would sing about the most, would sing the loudest about, and would want you join in singing about, too: would be Jesus Christ.
I’ve spent my entire life watching her, hearing her, and learning from her as she clung to He Who is stronger, wiser, and the most loving.
During great times - she prayed and thanked God.
During bad times - she prayed and thanked God.
During still times - she prayed and thanked God.
Her steadfast love for Him was undeniable and something that you couldn’t miss.
If you ever wondered what it was about my grandma that made her who she was - it was Jesus.
If you ever wondered why she cared the way she did - it was Jesus.
If you ever wondered where the joy came from - it was Jesus.
If you only have room to remember one thing about Carole - remember Jesus.
Grandma sang about a lot of things - I didn’t even talk about her singing about New York, or singing about being Jewish, or singing about how much I know she loved my mom, dad, sisters, and me.
But there is so much joy and peace in my heart in knowing that my Singing Grandma is singing at the top of her lungs with her arms raised high in the presence of God. And knowing that is what makes today a genuine celebration of the life, love, and faith of my Singing Grandma, Carole Maxine Beatty.
