On November 21st of 2021, I wrote the blog “The Ultimate Reminder” about a gentleman I’d literally known all my life . . . about his acknowledgment that his circle of older family members and friends was rapidly dwindling . . . about how hard it was to watch them leave.
That gentleman was Grady Yeiser and those events and observations stemmed from the death of his wonderful wife, Charlotte. It was written with the permission of his family, permission for which I was extremely grateful and which they have granted once more. Mr. Grady and “Miss” Charlotte were fixtures from my childhood and beyond, and her passing had rekindled memories of those days so many years before. And of the parents I had loved and lost.
Now, slightly over two years later, we had come together again, seated in the same room as before, only this time for a different reason. His girls were there to plan his farewell. I was there on a fact-finding mission, one that would hopefully allow me to write an obituary that I felt was worthy of its subject. In my mind, that would be no easy task because of our families’ deep and abiding connection.
Grady Yeiser was a down-to-earth soul whose pleasures in life were simple enough . . . time spent with his family, a good meal with friends, wandering cemeteries in search of his history. He believed in serving his God and community (and watching all the University of Tennessee football he could) and during his 89 years managed to do a fair amount of each. As we worked together to honor his wife, he shared stories with me of their friendship with my parents—often driving to Memphis just to eat or see a movie, in the days when four-lane highways didn’t exist and small towns dotted the landscape, requiring greatly reduced speeds—something that never deterred my dad who always seemed to be the designated driver. At Mr. Grady’s visitation another member of that long-ago group of friends retold those tales, this time providing more insight into one particular evening. It seems they had made the normally two plus hour return trip in about an hour and 20 minutes, and he questioned Grady as to whether he’d had any concerns about a possible accident while flying down the road, to which he replied no. After all, my dad was a professional . . . and Mr. Grady was a trusting soul. It just added another layer to the memories of the past that were, at that moment, busily invading my present.
I’m not sure he ever met a stranger and I know “Miss” Charlotte didn’t, and that very trait may have helped him cope with his grief when she died. Instead of turning inward and shutting himself off from the world, he embraced it with every fiber of his being, reaching out to others who needed encouragement, and greeting everyone with whom he came in contact. Whether they were life-long friends or someone whose path he just happened to cross, he sought out people because he enjoyed their company immensely.
Of course, his ever-growing family was always there for him, and the proof of their devotion to one another was evident throughout the pictures they brought for use in his video. Every gathering required a group photo, even “Miss” Charlotte’s funeral—and what a wonderful group it was. There were so many pictures of him with one or two of the grands or great-grands, pictures where you just knew he had reached for a hug and someone had said “hold it!” while pulling out their phone. You could see the love . . . you could feel the bond between them . . . it overflowed from the screen and filled the room and the hearts of those who had come to pay their respects.
As Mr. Grady had observed at his wife’s death, it’s hard. It’s just hard. In that moment, he was referring to watching as his friends slowly, one by one, left this world—and him—behind. And at that moment, his sweet wife had joined them. Today I will echo his thoughts, but from a different perspective.
It is hard, it is so hard, to say goodbye to someone who not only means the world to you, but who so strongly tethers you to your past and the people you love.
About the author: Lisa Shackelford Thomas is a fourth-generation member of a family that’s been in funeral service since 1926 and has worked with Shackelford Funeral Directors in Savannah, Tennessee for over 45 years. Any opinions expressed here are hers and hers alone and may or may not reflect the opinions of other Shackelford family members or staff.
