Eulogy for Sally Brownlee

Sarah bat Ya’acov u’Vatya

When our loved ones die, there is a hole that is left in our hearts that feels cavernous at times.  Without our loved one’s physical presence in our life, so much is lost to us—we will no longer hear the sound of her voice.  We will no longer feel her hand in ours.  We will no longer see the smile on her face.  What we are blessed with is the memory of our time with her—happy moments and sad.  Our loved ones leave a legacy of memory behind as a blessing for us all.  The Israeli poet, Zelda once wrote:

Each of us has a name, given by God, and given by our father and mother.

Each of us has a name given by our stature and our way of smiling, and given by our clothes.

Each of us has a name given by the mountains and given by the walls.

Each of us has a name given by the planets and given by our neighbors.

Each of us has a name given by our sins and given by our longing.

Each of us has a name given by our enemies and given by our love.

Each of us has a name given by our celebrations and given by our work.

Each of us has a name given by the seasons of the year and given by our blindness.

Each of us has a name given by the sea and given by our death.

Sally had many names given to her throughout her life: daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, wife, mother, grandma, zsa zsa.  Each of these names had great meaning in shaping her life and in shaping our memories of her.  

Sally was born in 1929—the last of 9 children.  Although her parents named her Sarah, everyone called her Sally (or at times Sally Sue) and as the youngest of this large family she was well doted on and well loved.  [Her sisters, Sylvia and Sadelle, will miss her tremendously.]  She married young as almost immediately her husband went off to the Korean War and she, not too long after, had a baby to care for.

Sally took so much pride in the name that she created for herself as “mother” to Cathy and Karen.  Her relationship with her daughters was unique in many ways: on the one hand, she was a very strict mother—she had clear rules and expectations for her daughters and they knew to stay in line.  On the other hand, Sally enjoyed being with her girls so much that not only did she truly enjoy spending time with them, but she would also dote on them day and night—she would pick out for them fabulous clothes and shoes and would dress them—because they were her little dolls.  More important than her sense of fashion, though, Sally instilled in her daughters a true sense of family.

There was little in life that delighted Sally more than her family.  When the girls were young they would spend every weekend with the cousins—Sally made it very clear that family is not a choice—nor is loving your family a choice.  She loved every member of her family so much, and she expected each member of the family to feel the same.  This love was only magnified when the grandchildren came into her life.

“Grandma” was a name that Sally wore with both honor and distinction.  Throughout her life, she lived with every one of her grandkids and forged a special relationship with each one.  She loved their youthful energy—as she was filled with it herself—and so she relished every opportunity to spend time with Donna, Lisa, Jason, Danielle, and Chad.  It could have been embarrassing when she would invite herself out with them and their friends but it was ok because all of their friends loved Sally—she was the “cool” grandma.  And anyways, she would much rather go clubbing with her grandkids than play Mah Jong with the older folk.

The name, however, that was most precious to Sally and most fitting was Zsa Zsa.  When Josh, her first great grandchild, was a toddler he began calling her Zsa Zsa and nothing could have been more appropriate.  Sally loved her great grandkids, Joshua, Alyson, Isabella, Noah, and Jacob, with every fiber of her being—they were the light of her life.  She loved to read to them and draw with them.  She loved to play games with them and was not afraid to get on the floor with them.  She loved to lie in bed and cuddle with them and hug them until they could hardly breathe.

But the title “great grandmother” would never have worked for her.  Zsa Zsa, on the other hand, fit Sally to a tee.  You see, like Zsa Zsa Gabor, Sally was all about glamour.  Gold lamet, leopard print, fabulous shoes, always done hair and make-up—this was Sally.  She was a character, the life of the party.  She had the ability to size a person up on sight and the chutzpah let a person know exactly what she was thinking. Sally was small and mighty and she let everyone know it.  

Sally was not perfect.  She could be a little stubborn, a little opinionated, and being the baby of the family never left her completely—she could be a little bratty.  She knew the way things should be done so why argue with her?  But she loved, whole heartedly, everyone who entered her life—her parents, her brothers and sisters, her children, her grandkids, her great grandkids and, of course, everyone they loved, Joel and David, Steven, Amy, Scott, and Kristin, you, too, were her family.  And upon everyone, she showered her lipstick kisses (all over.)

Throughout her time on earth, Sally crafted for herself a name of blessing.  Sally has left behind a legacy of love of family and love of life.  And we will remember her—how she doted on us, how she laughed with us, how she loved us.

“Each of us has a name given by the sea and given by our death.”

May the memory and the name of Sally Brownlee always be for blessing.