Eulogy by Robert Christian 9-10-11
Everyone has their own impression of the people they know and love. When I think of my grandma, I think of her smile and laugh, her warmth and joy, her intelligence and empathy. I think of her passion and tenacity, her mercy, and her faith.
As I continue in my study of politics, I learn more and more about the complexity of countless societal problems and I have developed increased respect for those who disagree with me, but whose positions reflect thoughtful, reasoned analysis, and genuinely moral intentions. At the same time, I hope to retain one part of my character that my grandma has passed down to me: a passionate hatred of injustice, a flat refusal to acquiesce to the conquest of evil. There are men with bad intentions, there are practices that are contrary to the law of love and the common good, there are conditions wholly incompatible with human dignity. If the quest for communion begins on earth, the proper response to these unfortunate realities requires a particular type of character: a desire to find and embrace the truth; the courage to stand by one’s convictions; faith in God, love, goodness, and hope in a culture increasingly beset by indifference and even nihilism; compassion for the weak and vulnerable; a firm commitment to justice—a justice that is shaped by love for all; a passionate love of life and all it has to offer; and the tenacity and endurance to overcome all opposition and obstacles along the way.
My grandma exemplified so many of these traits. I saw as she helped to feed the poor; as she defended life from the womb to death row; as she visited isolated retired nuns who yearned for companionship. I know that she couldn’t bear to pass a homeless beggar without providing some assistance; that she donated inspiring amounts to charity; and that in my darkest hour, her words, perhaps even her presence alone, gave me comfort, stability, and security, when I needed it most.
When seeing the conditions of those desperately in need, her heart swelled with compassion. Her mercy trumped legalistic conceptions of justice. Her high moral standards never disappeared, but they yielded to the circumstances at hand and the demands of love. Her, at times tough exterior, melted away, revealing her inner softness and gentleness. Yet this gentleness and mercy did not result in meager sentimentality, but in concrete action to improve the lives of others.
I would be remiss if I failed to mention at least one of her qualities as a grandmother—one that my cousin Sam touched upon so powerfully last night. Is there a single greater gift that can be given to a person, particularly a child, than the feeling that they are loved wholly and unconditionally? It is difficult to imagine one. Every day I pray prayers of thanksgiving. I feel immense gratitude for the life I have been given. This sense is in no small part derived from the constant, unending love of grandma. What an amazing, wonderful gift.
Let me conclude by saying that beyond anything else her life was a life of faith. Her faith gave her life meaning, purpose, and direction. It gave her hope in things unseen. It inspired and animated her love for others. She lived in faith and died in faith. For those of us who share that faith, we believe, hope, and trust that today that faith is fulfilled. That, together with the communion of saints, including her beloved son Tommy and all others dear to her who have passed before, she will live eternally in the warmth, light, and love of God’s presence. For our own sake, we mourn her passing from this life. For her sake, we rejoice in the breaking of a new dawn.
Obituary: June 23, 1922-Sept. 4, 2011
