Edna Christian

Andrew Christian's Eulogy:

I don’t know if it’s true just for my grandma or everybody in their lives but her sense of humor never seemed to change. I mean never. I’d describe her sense of humor as always ready to tell or listen to a joke, usually a slightly inappropriate one at that. But in all honesty, I really think she just loved to laugh and to make people laugh. It’s probably where my father got it from and myself as well. Everyone who knew Edna would talk about her laughter. It was almost a howl. A deep, guttural laugh that let you know something was really funny. It’s something people noticed right away and still remind me of when they reminisce about her. What a great thing for people to know you for. A laugh. A sign of happiness and joy. You know, I was lucky to be able to have grandparents for 34 years. Much longer than most people. Long enough for the entirely of my childhood, for my young adult life. Also long enough to have her see me get married, begin my career, and to give her 2 great-grandchildren. A feat that I can only aspire to. Her memories of her imprint upon me. Whether it was making Gordie drinks at the wet bar after he’d shake the ice in his empty glass, teaching me the basics of playing songs on her keyboard, playing card games, taking my brothers and me on the golf cart at Kelly Ridge overlooking Lake Oroville and playing a round while I looked for golf balls in the gulleys to collect, vacationing on Shasta Lake and living on a houseboat for a week, taking a cruise and putting around Catalina Island and Ensenada, playing old records of Perry Como, Al Martino, and Dean Martin, running through the sprinklers on the golf course and when it got dark my dad and I would look up at the stars at night and ask questions about the universe above us, or singing Tiny Bubbles by Don Ho when she would give my brothers and me a bath. She would sing the chorus over and over of “tiny bubbles, in the wine” while telling me to close my eyes as she’d wash my hair as the warm water would run down my face. But her memories aren’t just in the distant past. I remember ordering a manhattan on the rocks at a party with a friend of mine. Unfamiliar with the drink, he asked what it was. I told him the ingredients then added, “It’s my grandma’s favorite drink.” I don’t know what exactly he was expecting after his first sip, but his reaction of “your ​grandma​ drinks this?” spoke volumes. I laughed. It pretty sums up both the drink and her. Surprisingly packs a punch, and the more time you spend with them, the more you end up laughing. When we buried grandpa Gordie, I read a poem then, at no more than 12 years old. I still it have it now, and I think it still speaks to grandma as well, so I’ve adapted a few words. For Grandma Edna I’ll lend you a little time a Grandma so fine, he said. For you to love while she lives and mourn for when she’s dead. It may be sixty or seventy years or maybe less, you see. But will you, till I call her back, take care of her for me? And should the angels call for her much sooner than you plan, will you bear the bitter grief that comes and try to understand? And so we give her back to you with sadness and with tears, but thank you, Lord, for sharing her these happy, joyful years. But beyond that, legacy speaks to what is left behind. What survives and lives on. And for me, it’s memories and lessons. Lessons like always remembering where you came from. Even though I grew up with privileges and without worries that many people in this world have, I’m grateful for where I come from. Grandpa Gordie carried letters for years, represented his union, and walked the same route countless times. Grandma worked in a beer distributor, then came home and made dinner every night and tucked in my father and my aunt and uncle. Some people can be embarrassed by their backgrounds. Some people can be ashamed from simple upbringings. I am humbled. Mine taught me to value hard work. To not shy away from putting in long hours and doing what is both necessarily and difficult. My grandma represents the working class of me. The East Bay part of me. The blue collar Hayward, Oakland, public union, white knuckle, grit your teeth part of me. And I’m a better man because of it and because of her. And lastly, Grandma, I hope you’re dancing with Gordie, sipping a manhattan, singing along to all your favorite songs with your friends and family. Laughing the same laugh that drew everyone close and made us feel like we were the best people to be around. As Don Ho sang, “Tiny bubbles, Make me warm all over with a feeling that I'm gonna love you till the end of time, So here's to the golden moon, and here's to the silver sea, and mostly here's a toast, to you and me.” I love you, I miss you. I think of you all the time.

Graveside Remarks by Robert Christian:

So much of what I think about when I think about my grandma Edna was mentioned by Drew in his terrific eulogy. Her sense of humor. She was always laughing and making others laugh. And this spread joy and enriched people’s lives. Her hard work. And the respect for working people this imbued in me and Drew and others. She was devoted to her family. She was loyal—to her husband, Bay Area sports, the Democratic Party. She was an outstanding student that might have had an entirely different career had she come along just a generation later. She was talented. She could run the point and compose the school song, while getting straight As (assuming you count the A- from that teacher who screwed her over). And she was just as whip smart and musically talented decades later. And she had common sense and little time for nonsense. I vividly remember her shooting me knowing “get a load of this” looks, even in recent years.
She was a warm person, a loving person, a beautiful person—who lived a long, rich, full, remarkable life. I admire her and always will, but even more than that, I love her. And always will.

Finally, here are some words of Anne Bronte:

Farewell to thee! but not farewell
To all my fondest thoughts of thee:
Within my heart they still shall dwell;
And they shall cheer and comfort me....

O, no! thy spirit lingers still
Where'er thy sunny smile was seen:
There's less of darkness, less of chill
On earth, than if thou hadst not been....

Though, freed from sin, and grief, and pain
Thou drinkest now the bliss of Heaven,
Thou didst not visit earth in vain;
And from us, yet, thou art not riven.

Life seems more sweet that thou didst live,
And women more true that thou wert one:
Nothing is lost that thou didst give,
Nothing destroyed that thou hast done.

Earth hath received thine earthly part;
Thine heavenly flame has heavenward flown;
But both still linger in my heart,
Still live, and not in mine alone