Thank you all for being here today to remember and celebrate my Granny, Renee Walker.
Thank you, Dad, and Uncle Erik, for the opportunity to share these words.
My name is Joshua Southard. I’m Granny’s favorite oldest grandson.
As a gift for Granny’s 80th birthday, I collected stories and memories about Granny and arranged them as a tribute for her. I’ve rearranged them here for you today.
Granny and Grandpa Wayne used to have this shorthand way of signing texts and emails. Three checkmarks.
Those three check marks meant:
Love you.
Miss you.
See you soon.
That’s what I want to talk about today. The way Granny showed love, thoughtfulness, and was always present when it mattered most.
Love You
More than anything, I want people to remember that Granny loved us all with her words, her thoughts, and her actions.
Granny’s love was never just something she felt quietly. She expressed it. She spoke it. She practiced it. We all experienced it.
You could experience it in a Granny hug.
Granny hugs were special. They were not casual or distracted. When Granny hugged you, she was fully present. Her hugs were safe, genuine, and welcoming. They made you feel like, for that moment, you were exactly where you belonged.
Charity remembered that Granny had a way of making people feel special and loved, especially when she hugged them and said, “Give me some sugar!” She also remembered Granny being there for the significant milestones in her life, including her high school and college graduations.
That was one of Granny’s gifts. She knew how to make love tangible.
You could feel it in the way she listened to you. You could see it in her smile. You could hear it in her laughter. You could feel it in the way she remembered what was important to you and showed up when it mattered.
Granny was a force.
She drew us together.
Growing up, Granny and Grandpa hosted Christmas every year. When I think about Christmas, I think about Granny. I think about family, Stromboli, Christmas bells, gifts, laughter, adventures, traditions, and the fundamental goodness of celebrating together.
Many of the traditions that define our family began with her. Christmas hikes. Going to see Santa. The bells. The food. The celebrations. The Yankee swap. Granny created what Christmas means to us.
Granny gave excellent gifts. Specifically, one box of Cap’n Crunch per kid.
Sometimes those gifts were things you could unwrap. Other times, they were memories, traditions, photographs, handmade clothes, letters, or adventures.
Diana remembered receiving a Christmas bell before she even understood the tradition. She also remembered a white elephant exchange when she ended up with a cheesy Chia Pet. At the end of the exchange, Granny offered to trade gifts with her, giving her lottery tickets and a handmade face mug. It was a small act, but it showed how naturally Granny looked for ways to make someone else feel included and cared for.
Granny’s generosity frequently involved an extraordinary amount of work. My mom, Anita remembered Granny sewing outfits for the girls for an annual fashion show. What began as outfits for a couple of granddaughters grew until Granny was sewing between 15 and 20 outfits at a time, sometimes adding the finishing touches right up to the day before the show. They were bright, sparkling, lovingly handmade reminders that Granny gave people not only her things, but also her time, imagination, energy, and care.
Granny also gave us adventures.
She was somehow brave enough to load a group of children into an RV and head out to places like White Sands and Carlsbad Caverns. She took us camping and fishing. She took us swimming. She traveled across the country with family. She created experiences full of excitement, wonder, laughter, and probably more chaos than we understood at the time.
Now that many of us have children of our own, we understand those adventures differently.
We understand how much courage, patience, planning, and love it must have taken to keep all of us alive.
That was Granny. She taught us how to write our own adventures by taking us along on hers.
Her love could also be fiercely protective.
Erik told me a story of a seventh-grade math teacher who had treated her students badly. When Granny arrived at the school, the principal, vice principal, and other teachers greeted her warmly as she made her way down the hallway. By the time she reached the math teacher, it had become clear that Granny was respected, known, and definitely not someone to underestimate.
When the teacher asked, “Just who are you?” Granny replied, “I’m someone you don’t want to mess with!”
Erik remembered feeling proud, protected, and loved. He also remembered that math class was better for everyone afterward.
That story makes me smile because it captures something essential about Granny. Her love was warm, but it was not weak. She protected her people. She stood up for what was right. When necessary, she could be a force on behalf of someone who needed her.
Her love also appeared in quieter moments.
Kaleb remembered finding Granny alone in the kitchen after a family gathering. Everyone else was full and tired while the kids ran around, but Granny was washing dishes after spending part of the evening preparing her Stromboli. She had earned the right to rest, but she was still serving everyone else.
When Kaleb entered the kitchen, she greeted him with a huge smile and one of those world-famous Granny hugs. They washed dishes together and talked about the simple things that had happened since they had last seen one another. He didn’t remember the exact conversation, but what stayed with him was her smile, the hug, the way she listened, and the selfless love revealed by that ordinary moment.
That may be one of the clearest pictures of Granny’s love.
Sometimes love is a grand adventure.
Sometimes love is defending your child.
Sometimes love is sewing 20 outfits.
And sometimes love is standing at a sink with soapy hands, cleaning up the mess everyone else made, listening intently to someone you love.
Granny showed us that love is action.
She cared for family members. She served in her community. She considered the needs and feelings of others. She showed up for graduations, birthdays, weddings, parties, and holidays. She made family a priority. She taught us that Southards stick together.
She also reminded us who we are.
She used to tell my dad, “We are Southards. We don’t do those things.”
Those words are about more than correcting behavior. Granny was teaching us that being part of her family meant something. It came with standards. It meant knowing who you are, taking pride in your family, and acting accordingly.
She gave us a family identity, but more importantly, she showed us how to live up to it.
Miss You
And now, Granny, we miss you.
We will miss the force that drew us together.
We will miss the person who made Christmas feel like Christmas.
We will miss your stories, your jokes, your good-natured teasing, and the way you encouraged Grandpa Wayne to tell one more story. I will miss the woman who once had me program the “Big Butt” song as her ringtone, which remains one of my favorite examples of her sense of humor.
We will miss your Stromboli, which cannot be replicated.
We will miss your letters.
We will miss your enthusiasm for Christmas, celebrations, and unusual gifts.
We will miss hearing you remind us who we are.
And we will miss those fully present, safe, genuine Granny hugs.
There is an emptiness now because there was once such a powerful presence.
Our grief is a reflection of how deeply Granny loved us and how deeply we loved her. We miss her because without her, the world isn’t as big or good, safe.
It is all right for us to feel that grief. It’s ok to miss her. It’s ok to medicate with Cap’n Crunch, but maybe not the Jumbo Box.
It is all right to say that we wish we could hear one more story, share one more Christmas, go on one more adventure, receive one more letter, or feel one more Granny hug.
We will miss her.
See You Soon
But the three check marks did not end with “Miss you.”
The third was always:
See you soon.
Those words are full of hope.
Those words remind us that she found Grandpa Wayne, who she missed so badly. And Jesus.
Those words remind us she is waiting for us on the other side of the rainbow bridge, probably with Sinbad and quite a few turtles.
They remind us that the love Granny gave us did not leave when she did. It is woven into our stories, our traditions, our shared language, our adventures, and the way we treat one another.
Granny’s love is a big part of the Southard and Walker family legacies.
Because of her, we put family first.
We take pride in who we are as a family.
We show up for one another.
We give excellent gifts.
We go on adventures.
We create traditions worth passing down.
We laugh, tease, tell stories, and make memories.
We protect the people we love.
And we give the best hugs.
That is how Granny’s love will continue.
It will continue each time we gather at Christmas and tell the old stories again.
It will continue when we bring the next generation into our traditions and explain why we eat Cap’n Crunch, and why we only eat the right kinds.
It will continue when we show up for graduations, birthdays, weddings, celebrations, and difficult days.
It will continue every time we choose to serve after we have earned the right to rest.
It will continue when we remind our children who they are and what it means to be part of this family.
It will continue when we take somebody on an adventure, give a thoughtful gift, stand up for someone who needs us, or offer a hug that is fully present, safe, and genuine.
Granny taught us how to love by loving us.
Now it is our responsibility, and our privilege, to keep giving that love away.
Years ago, when I collected these stories for Granny’s 80th birthday, I wrote that the stories were only a few small drops in a bucket. I wrote that they whispered what should have been sung. They told of her character, grace, beauty, selflessness, and adventures. I told her that we would carry those stories in the fabric of our families, in our traditions, in our shared language, and in our hearts.
That is still true today.
These stories are hers, but they are also ours.
Her love is ours.
Her legacy is ours.
And because we had Granny to show us how, we know what to do with it.
We carry it forward.
So, Granny, you spent your life saying these words to us with your voice, your letters, your thoughts, your hugs, and your actions.
Today, we say them back to you:
Love you.
Miss you.
See you soon.
✓ ✓ ✓
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