A Life, in a Few Words

She was born into a farming family – the 13th of 15 siblings. Three brothers had died – two in infancy and one, a half brother, at the age of 35 – before she was even born. The rest grew into modest lives and professions: Dressmakers, farmers, postal workers, homemakers.

The tiny, cute redheaded girl grew into a petite, lovely blazen haired woman.

She worked briefly in a sweets shop. She and her girlfriend at work would snitch chocolates when they could, and throw the wadded wrappers behind a display. They laughed about their boss one day moving the display and having a conniption over all the wrappers he’d find.

She fell in love with a younger man. He was tall and handsome and very personable. She was 20, he was 19. There was never anyone else after they met. They married and had a son. He made a good living as a civil servant mechanic at the local air force base. She found complete fulfillment in caring for family and home. Their boy grew up, married, and had 2 children of his own. She lived for the time she could spend with them. They lived in another city but remained close. She pen palled with her granddaughter all through childhood, adolescence, and into adulthood.

When her husband died she moved to a retirement village. She missed her sweetheart each day as much as the first without him, but she stayed socially active and had many friends. She remained a sparkle on the water. She loved sharing - and pulling - a good joke, and enhanced any situation where she was present, though too humble to accept acknowledgment of it. She danced a jazzy number at her grandson’s wedding, and quite well, until the attention she drew embarrassed her and she sat down.

She had a physical therapy session one morning in March. It went well, and she was in good spirits - sharing her sweet sense of humor with the therapists as they worked. She returned to her room and an hour later, passed away peacefully. The world has been a duller place ever since.

Today is my Grandmother’s 96th birthday – the first I spend without her here. Happy Birthday, Grandma. I miss you.