Okay, here's part two: the eulogy written by Mel's niece, Neena Swartz. It was read at the funeral by Neena's sister, Allison Swartz.
In case you're wondering, part two was technically posted before part one so that I could get Mel's speech and the accompanying explanation at the top of the blog. This will also get the headline I wrote for that post onto the homepage of Philly.com.
The full text of Neena's eulogy is after the "jump," so click on the link below to continue.
In my grandmother’s last days, we talked about a lot of memories; something that many people don’t get to do before they pass. It is impossible for me to believe that my mom-mom won’t be there to make any more memories, but at the same time, I am so happy for her that she got to experience such wonderful things in her full eighty five years of life.
Last night, while my family gathered to break the fast of Yom Kippur, my sister and I were saying that we could just picture her in the other room sitting there chatting with one of our family members or just enjoying being in everyone’s presence.
My mom-mom was always happy. She didn’t require constant attention or material things. I remember every birthday or Mothers Day, or Hanuakah she would say, “Don’t get me anything, I don’t need anything.” She was always happy, though, to open gifts with us on her special occasions. We made sure that she was always well dressed. While she was at Blue Bell Place she told me that people were going to be jealous of her because she had so much clothing. She had a different outfit for every day of the week.
Mom-mom always wanted to help. I remember she, Mondle, Margie and Ben would arrive early for all family dinners and occasions. Mom-mom would sit in the kitchen looking for something to clean or put together, feeling that she had a purpose once she received her chore. She sewed and ironed our clothes for many, many years, one of the only things my mom never chose to take up. When I was at Temple she would say to me, “make sure you give that to me to wash”. Mondle also reaped the benefits of this for longer than most people get to.
My mom-mom loved to cook. I love hearing my mom talk about how during her youth, everyone had to be cleaned up and in the house for dinner when my pop-pop got home. She had her signature dishes that nobody else attempted to make. She was in charge of doctoring the gefilte fish, one of my favorite dishes. At Passover she made the charoseth, and at Hanukah she made the latkes. I remember one time either she or Mondle grabbed the wrong container from the freezer and we ended up with a batch of Swedish meatballs on Hanukah.
Just a month ago I moved to a lovely new apartment with Matt and I told her, I’m going to cook dinner for Matt every night and have it on the table when he gets home. Her response was so funny to me and probably most women of my day. She said, “HA! Of course you will!”, as if there was no other way to do it. She ordered the Rachel Ray magazine for us to share, and even in her last month while she stayed in bed I called her to find out the cooking time and temperatures for different meats.
Another thing I remember about my mom-mom was that she always wanted to learn how to use a computer. She took classes at the community center to learn basic skills, but somehow, nothing ever stuck. She would hire me for hour sessions to sit in the basement and show her how to email.
She loved getting to write back and forth with her cousin in Florida, and other family and friends in the area. I would write down every single step. Every button and click was so easily described in writing, and she would still call me to say she couldn’t do it. But while we were together it did amaze her. I would download music and bring up recipes and she was in awe. She always said I wish your pop-pop could see this he wouldn’t believe it.
Mom-mom loved to travel. She went on bus trips with her synagogue and had photos and
magnets from many different places that she visited. When I graduated from high-school she took me on a Caribbean cruise. We sat at the dinner table with a lovely Indian family, and she named the mother the Maharaja. She became pen pals with that woman and they wrote back and forth for years afterward.
My mom-mom collected people wherever she went. She said WHATEVER was on her mind at any time. I have been hysterical laughing and incredibly embarrassed at the same time on countless occasions during my life, at things my mom-mom has said. She fell in love with a nurse at Mercy Suburban hospital, and on the day when I took her home the nurse wheeled her outside to say goodbye. She said to the nurse, “I love you give me a kiss”, and as she did my mom-mom said “Oh your breath smells like onions.” We were laughing so hard.
Even though she was quick to observe anything out loud about people, they still found her cute and wanted to adopt her as their own grandmother. People were good to her and she was good to them. I am so thankful for her therapist Mary, who after knowing my mom-mom only less than a year, could not peel herself away from her bedside during her last days. She became her family in the end; rubbing her arm more than once a day, talking and joking with her about their families, and kissing her before she left. By the first time I met Mary she already knew everything about me.
The girls at Blue Bell place were so wonderful to my mom-mom and to my family and I want to thank them. As I drove past there last night on my way home, I was very sad to know that I would not be stopping in there on a regular basis any more to pluck my mom-moms eyebrows or watch Oprah or a movie.
I cannot express the loss that I feel for a grandmother that was more than a grandmother to me. She was my person. She was my role model and my confidante. I will carry her with me in my heart, and plant flowers on her grave on her birthday and Mother’s Day as she wished. I will love you always mom-mom.
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