Annaka

explain why I didn’t come visit, or what I should have done to make more of an effort. I wasn’t in the mood for any of that, so I wasn’t opening any door that led to that conversation.
The service was starting and I made my way to a seat in the front pew by Mom. An older black man named Pastor Dennis gave the eulogy. He has known our family for years. I sat and watched the pastor speak about my Grandfather’s life while I was trying to mourn the loss of him.
I think deep down I would have liked to say something. Lots of other people did: Carla told a story about the first time she met Grampy when Nan brought Carla to a Christmas dinner at the house. She spoke about how shy he used to be, and how different he became. I only ever knew him as the loudest person in the room. I could never imagine Grampy being shy; it almost made me laugh. Tia’s parents, Jonathan and Clare, spoke too. They talked about how he used to be their high school English teacher, and how he had also been teaching Tia before he passed away. I wondered what it’d be like having Grampy as a teacher. He must have been awesome because there were a lot of students present; all dressed in black, most repping Yarmouth High buttons. Shortly after the Evanses finished, Mom went up in front of everyone. I could tell she was nervous. She knows how to speak publicly—heck, she did it often—but that experience wasn’t useful for a funeral.
“My father spent most of his life with a smile across his face,” she began. “Even when the world tried to take it away. Coming to Canada from England with little family, he knew he had to be brave to find his way here. And judging by how many people are here, a lot of you cherished him.” She paused and looked out at the sea of faces. She took a deep breath and went on.
“Dad’s presence could chase away a cloudy day, and bring warmth to those who needed it most. I remember how supportive he was. Contrary to popular belief, my teenage years were always somewhat of a roller coaster. I wasn’t always setting the best example, and I sometimes got into a little bit of trouble.” Mom shrugged at the last part while the crowd let out some giggles. “But I always knew I could call Dad, regardless of the situation. No matter what happened. He would get in his big old truck, pick me up, and he’d buy me a cheeseburger, some French fries, and a coffee. And we would just talk it out.” Here she smiled, and a tear leaked out her eye and rolled down her cheek. “I think it was those small moments that left the biggest impact on my life. As stubborn as he was, he was wise. Rich in knowledge, and always could say the right things. He never shied away from his family in the difficult moments…the vulnerable ones. My father always rose to the occasion when it mattered most. I’m lucky to have been raised in such a loving home; he always treated my mother with love, respect, and cherished her even in the moments when she wanted to rip his head off.” The crowd laughed at that.
“I know that without his patience, love, and understanding, I wouldn’t have become the woman I am. He always had a special place in his heart for my daughter, Annaka.” Mom smiled while looking at me. I didn’t even mind that she had used my full name. It suited the moment. “I still remember how his face lit up the first time he met his granddaughter, and how joyful he was being able to watch her grow. He stepped in to be a positive male role model in my daughter’s life. He was so excited to have her around, and grow in the same household that he raised me in.
“My father was an anchor not only for his family, but also his community. He taught most of the people here, I’m assuming?” Almost everyone in the room nodded or raised their hand. My mother smiled and nodded. “My father cherished working with young people because he knew how vital those teenage years are, how important it is to make a lasting impact on a young person’s life, and how far that can take them into the future. All he ever wanted was the best for everyone. He did that by instilling hope in those who will be the future. I need every young person here to listen closely to the words I’m about to say. You hear?” She looked out at the audience again, scanning for the students. I could see the young people in the back saying yes as a way of acknowledgment.
“Embody the hopefulness he planted in your school hallways, in the classrooms where he spilled his knowledge, and use that as a foundation to build upon when you lead the future. Be kinder to one another, never shy away from fear, and be brave in this world, especially when the world is trying make you anything but. He believed in all of you, and right now, he needs you to be the future. He needs you to be the now. So jump into the world, and ignite a fire behind you, lighting a path for others to follow. I know you won’t let him down.” She paused to let that sink in, before finishing: “Thank you all for being here on this day. I want to give others the opportunity to share their memories of my father. God bless.” Mom nodded her head, wiping the tears from her eyes, while the attendees applauded.
That last part did warm my heart. Mom had the voice of a giant, and the strength of one, too. Grampy was an immigrant who came to Canada as a