My grandmother

This morning, I received news from my dad that my grandmother had died in her sleep last night.  She was 91 years old, and had been in grave condition for the last week.  Winters can be hard on the elderly.  This post will not dwell though on my loss, but on who she was as an individual, and the strength she brought to this family.

Here's a picture, probably from the 1950's.  She's holding my mother there, and sitting next to my grandfather...the love of her life.

This one here is from the early 1980's.  That's me on my grandfather's lap there, and my brother between the two of them.  My grandfather passed away 6 years ago when I was pregnant with my daughter.  I'm saddened sometimes that he never met her, my mother and I were the twinkle in his eye, and I know my daughter would have been the same.

This is how I remember them both.  This picture is from the 1990's, and was probably taken when I was in high school.  They both were still healthy enough to get around then.

Here she is now, a widow and a great-grandmother.  My mother with her, and my two children smiling up at me.

She was a feisty lady, who was strong and independent.  Up until last week, she lived alone in her house. She spoke her mind, even when you didn't want to hear what she had to say.  She introduced me to gardening, and homesteading.  Told me what she knew about canning foods, and how to cook.

The last 6 years for her have been unkind.  I know now she is at peace, reunited with the love of her life.  I'm sure if I don't carry myself correctly, she'll be the first one to smack me when I get past those pearly gates myself.

Until then, she'll be missed.