Funeral Talk by Lynn R. Stratford
Oh how I miss my mother. I think I loved her stronger and longer than any soul
on earth. I know she’s 93 and I know she’s happier where she is and she lived a long
and full life, but still I have been so sad this week. It’s been like a dark cloud
hanging over me and I dearly miss her. I’d like to thank all of you folks for coming
today, many from long distances. You’re so kind to be here and I know you feel how
much my mother appreciated and loved each one. I’d like to tell you a few little
known facts about my mother.
You’ll hear a lot of common themes today, but she really had a thirst fbr
knowledge. When she was bedridden the last couple of years, she would read books
and magazines and she would read a church book and think it’s the greatest book
ever written. She would assign me to read it and she would buy five copies and give
it to everyone for them to read. She loved poetry. I remember finding a little
handwritten notebook that she had written a long time ago and it had all of her
favorite poems in it. And there must have been like 50 poems and how excited I was
to see this side of her.
She was an “in charge” type of person. When it was in her realm of influence of
household or entertaining or even in her particular church job she was in charge and
she directed the way it went. She knew what was proper. She knew what to wear
and how to act and how to introduce people. I remember her telling me that I
shouldn’t shake hands with a woman unless she offered to shake hands with me
first. She had a sense of quality and things that were well made and craftsmanship
and things of good value.
She was a sports fan. Lately she was completely tied in to this BYU football
team and I believe their losing the last two games has hastened this funeral service
here. She knew the players, the strategy, the ranking. I didn’t know even a part of
what she knew. She had a great memory even until the last days. She could
remember what happened and her faculties were with her and what a great
blessing.
She was known by many names, the first was Vera. She was born as she used
to say, oh six, oh six, oh six. And I’ll fiIl in the story of how she got she got the name
S”lIy. It was Dave and mom was about four or five and Dave had a lizard in his
pocket out on the ranch in Vernal. He tried to get Sally to come over and put her
hand in the pocket so her could scare her. But mom wouldn’t do it, she knew what
was up. Dave tried to make it happened, but it wouldn’t. Finally Dave said, “WeIl
you’re just as ornery as that old horse Sally.”
She was known as Mrs. Richard C. Stratford and she complemented my dad. He
was organized and in charge and sort of controlled the situation and my mom would
have the heart. She would have the feeling and the warmth and the humor that
certainly made a wonderful couple. They dearly loved each other. She was a friend,
and, as you know, she was just so warm and loving and everyone was her equal.
There was no one underneath her. I remember in Los Angeles that she had a black
maid who was called Hazel and for fifteen years she would take care of the house
once a week. And I could never understand it, my mom would hurry around before
Hazel came to clean everything up, so, you know, she wouldn’t have to do so much.
She found out what her favorite soap opera was, and at 2 o’clock she would sit Hazel
down in front of the TV and let her watch her program and then she’d start serving
her a three-course meal. When she left she’d pack up all the food and give it to
Hazel to take home. We had Mexican workers and she would bring them in at lunch
and put the China out and treated them like family. I remember in Sam’s CIub we
would go shopping and she started to introduce herself to the lady who looked at
your card to get in. Pretty soon, afber a while, they were the best of friends. I sort of
raised my eyebrow and said that this is the aggravating lady that makes you show
your card. But she was her best friend. I would go in by myself and this lady would
say, “Oh, how is your mother? You know she is such a dear person.” You knolv there
was just everyone that was important to her.
She was known as Sister Stratford and she loved the Lord and served with great
vigor and enthusiasm and distinction. I remember when I was three, she used to
put me in the back of an old coupe, in the back window, and she would run off to
MIA, Mutual Improvement Association and teach young women. She would just
take me wherever she went. She usually had in the back seat, you know, a great
deal of food that she took to help motivate these young women.
In the latter years she was pretty sick and when she got sick she would call me
to give her a blessing. Of course I started out by saying, “Mom, do you have faith
that this blessing will make you well?” “Oh yes, oh yes.” And I would just put my
hands on her head and it didn’t matter what I said, her faith would heal her. And
then she would say, “Oh that’s it. Okay, I’m all right now. You can go now. I can go
to sleep now.” She would create great faith.
She was also a little irreverent. I have a fond memory in the mission home.
Back then we would have a dining room table and all the missionaries would stand
behind the chairs until everyone was there, until my mom came in. She would
regularly be late and we’d have to sit and wait and she would get to the top of the
stairs and she would slide down the banister, you know. You would hear a swish,
boom landing and then she would walk in, you know. Then the missionaries would
help her sit down at the table. I loved that about her.
She was known as Aunt Sally. You know the Calders and the Stratfords that
have such a fond and loving relationship with her. Everyone was part of her family.
She was known as Grandma and you know she loved each one of her grandchildren
and they all thought they were her favorite because that was the way she treated
them. Amy told me last night when we would go over to West LA to see them many
times and Grandma would take a towel and put it in the dryer and got it all warm
and smelling good and then she’d pin it on the grandkids and so when they went
home they’d be all warm and comfy.
And, of course, she was known to me as Mother, and I don’t think there is
anyone that went grocery shopping with her as much as I did. Sometimes we would
go 2 or 3 times a day. I just loved it and it was an event. It was not a task and this
was the wherewithal that she put things together and made other people happy. I
remember when she was real sick, we went to Days and she would hold the cart and
she would just point to things, and I would take it and put it in the cart. I remember
one time I came home late and when she was out of bed, Iike 1:30 in the morning.
She was in her beloved pantry that she loved and she took a pot and put it upside
down and put her feet on it and that’s where she would write letters. So I came in
late and she found me and said, “Oh, Lynnie Oh Lynnie, you’re home. And I’d say,
“Oh, Mom, I love you.” And she’d say, “I know you love me Lynnie.”
In closing I’d like to refer to the words of Shakespeare when he wrote 400
hundred years ago about people being born and living and dying. In “As you Like
It”, he said that all the world’s a stage and all the men and women are players and
during their time they play many parts. They have exits and entrances and it goes
into seven phases of this–the infant, the whining school boy, the lover, the soldier,
the statesmen, the old, old men and their finally he says the, last scene of all that
ends a strange eventful history is the second childishness, the mere oblivion,
without teeth, without eyes, without taste, without anything. And just two weeks
ago I lifted my mom up out of the bed so they could change the sheets. She didn’t
like to be lifted and she was nervous. I held her tight and comforted her and got her
down again. And the next day I went in and she wanted me to come over and she
was all excited. She put her hands out and said, “You know yesterday you lifted me
up just like I lifted you up when you were a baby.” She held me tightly and she
comforted me and it’s my prayer as we face our last acts in life that we might be as
prepared as Sally Stratford. I say this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.
Sally Stratford 