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Granville Blake Renfrow lived a short life, but his impact on others was immeasurable. On Sunday he reached the end of his long struggle with addiction.
No mother should have to bury their child.
Granville Blake Renfrow, 28, from Memphis, passed away Sunday, August 21st, 2016. Blake loved the Grizzlies, music, and above all, his family, especially his three beautiful girls. He is survived by his mother, Debra Carol Renfrow, his father, Granville Wayne Renfrow (and wife Paula), of Memphis and Collierville respectively; his three daughters, Emilee Grace Renfrow, Blakely Denise Hurst , and Olivia Layne; one brother, Michael Renfrow of Dallas, and one sister, Lauren Renfrow, of Covington. The family will hold a private viewing and ceremony.
Unfortunately, a sudden death can be very costly. The family is accepting whatever we can give to help cover the costs of the funeral and burial. Any additional donations will be set in a fund for Blake's daughters.
Blake's Eulogy, delivered by his brother:
I’ll keep this short and sweet, because ultimately that’s what all of our lives are. I’ll also choose my words wisely, because in that shortness and sweetness, I want them to matter. I also won’t beat around the bush, because not only do we all deserve better, but so does Blake.
The fact that we’re all here today is, without question, a tragedy. 28 years old. It’s actually more than a tragedy, it’s absolute nonsense. No parents should ever have to bury their own son.
We can all question the “why’s” and “how’s” of this whole thing, but, this thing that took my little brother, that took my mother and father’s son, that took my beautiful nieces’ father – Emily and Blakely, he loved you so much, he was so proud of you girls, Olivia too - it’s a sickness, a brutal, cold, and ruthless sickness that doesn’t care who it affects. It’s a cancer, and like cancer, there’s often no cure. This sickness ravishes the body and the soul the same as any other deadly disease. There is nothing that any of us here could have done to prevent what happened. I’m not saying his death was some sort of fate or destiny, I’m just saying that every disease has a progression, and Blake was in stage four terminal cancer territory for a while. Mom, you did everything you could have done, and then some, and I want you to never, ever, ever forget that.
But this moment in time when we’re all here together, it’s not about the disease, it’s about Blake, and absent that disease, he was a really great, warm, and caring guy. He was a smart kid, both book smart and street smart. He had a childlike innocence and a great sense of humor. He cared about us all. He cared about us all to the point that his awareness that he had hurt us all at some point ate him up. He cared.
He tried to be tough, but, like many people, that was just a mask. Your presence here today is an acknowledgement of that that. You saw through that. You knew the real Blake. We all loved him, and I one hundred percent believe that he knew that.
He loved me. He admired me. He told me that all the time. And whenever he did, I always told him, “we’re all screwed up in our own ways, kiddo, you just work with what you can and do your best.” Remember that. Each and every one of us here today, we’re all screwed up in our own ways. We’ve all done things that hurt other people. None of us are perfect. We’ve all got our own demons. And we’re all better than our demons. We’re all better than our worst.
The end of someone’s life often ends up becoming a defining characteristic of that person. Unfortunately, despite my love for them and many great memories, when I think about my grandfather on my mom’s side, or my grandmother on my father’s side, those final years, months, and days can often overshadow the rest of the memories I have. This is, after all, a natural human trait, to remember the most recent version of something. Please, everyone, close your eyes and take a minute and think about a great memory of Blake - - now carry that memory with you. Let that be the memory that you recall whenever you think of my kid brother.
Unless we’re one of the rare few that dies doing something brave and heroic, we’re better than our end. And we’re all certainly much more than the worst thing about us. Blake was no exception. When it comes down to it, he was a good damn kid.
I want to end with a few lines from a Labi Siffre song called “Sparrow in the Storm;”
When the pain is such, feelings turn to dust
Are there tears enough to wash all of us?
I’m a sparrow in the storm
Without your love to keep me warm
Seasons come and seasons go
That you love(d) me is all I need to know
I loved you while you were alive kiddo, I love you now, and I always will.
No mother should have to bury their child.
Granville Blake Renfrow, 28, from Memphis, passed away Sunday, August 21st, 2016. Blake loved the Grizzlies, music, and above all, his family, especially his three beautiful girls. He is survived by his mother, Debra Carol Renfrow, his father, Granville Wayne Renfrow (and wife Paula), of Memphis and Collierville respectively; his three daughters, Emilee Grace Renfrow, Blakely Denise Hurst , and Olivia Layne; one brother, Michael Renfrow of Dallas, and one sister, Lauren Renfrow, of Covington. The family will hold a private viewing and ceremony.
Unfortunately, a sudden death can be very costly. The family is accepting whatever we can give to help cover the costs of the funeral and burial. Any additional donations will be set in a fund for Blake's daughters.
Blake's Eulogy, delivered by his brother:
I’ll keep this short and sweet, because ultimately that’s what all of our lives are. I’ll also choose my words wisely, because in that shortness and sweetness, I want them to matter. I also won’t beat around the bush, because not only do we all deserve better, but so does Blake.
The fact that we’re all here today is, without question, a tragedy. 28 years old. It’s actually more than a tragedy, it’s absolute nonsense. No parents should ever have to bury their own son.
We can all question the “why’s” and “how’s” of this whole thing, but, this thing that took my little brother, that took my mother and father’s son, that took my beautiful nieces’ father – Emily and Blakely, he loved you so much, he was so proud of you girls, Olivia too - it’s a sickness, a brutal, cold, and ruthless sickness that doesn’t care who it affects. It’s a cancer, and like cancer, there’s often no cure. This sickness ravishes the body and the soul the same as any other deadly disease. There is nothing that any of us here could have done to prevent what happened. I’m not saying his death was some sort of fate or destiny, I’m just saying that every disease has a progression, and Blake was in stage four terminal cancer territory for a while. Mom, you did everything you could have done, and then some, and I want you to never, ever, ever forget that.
But this moment in time when we’re all here together, it’s not about the disease, it’s about Blake, and absent that disease, he was a really great, warm, and caring guy. He was a smart kid, both book smart and street smart. He had a childlike innocence and a great sense of humor. He cared about us all. He cared about us all to the point that his awareness that he had hurt us all at some point ate him up. He cared.
He tried to be tough, but, like many people, that was just a mask. Your presence here today is an acknowledgement of that that. You saw through that. You knew the real Blake. We all loved him, and I one hundred percent believe that he knew that.
He loved me. He admired me. He told me that all the time. And whenever he did, I always told him, “we’re all screwed up in our own ways, kiddo, you just work with what you can and do your best.” Remember that. Each and every one of us here today, we’re all screwed up in our own ways. We’ve all done things that hurt other people. None of us are perfect. We’ve all got our own demons. And we’re all better than our demons. We’re all better than our worst.
The end of someone’s life often ends up becoming a defining characteristic of that person. Unfortunately, despite my love for them and many great memories, when I think about my grandfather on my mom’s side, or my grandmother on my father’s side, those final years, months, and days can often overshadow the rest of the memories I have. This is, after all, a natural human trait, to remember the most recent version of something. Please, everyone, close your eyes and take a minute and think about a great memory of Blake - - now carry that memory with you. Let that be the memory that you recall whenever you think of my kid brother.
Unless we’re one of the rare few that dies doing something brave and heroic, we’re better than our end. And we’re all certainly much more than the worst thing about us. Blake was no exception. When it comes down to it, he was a good damn kid.
I want to end with a few lines from a Labi Siffre song called “Sparrow in the Storm;”
When the pain is such, feelings turn to dust
Are there tears enough to wash all of us?
I’m a sparrow in the storm
Without your love to keep me warm
Seasons come and seasons go
That you love(d) me is all I need to know
I loved you while you were alive kiddo, I love you now, and I always will.
Organizer and beneficiary
Marie Bencivenga
Organizer
Dallas, TX
Michael Renfrow
Beneficiary
