Great Grandma (my mom) lives on at 92. Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren adore her.
I never knew my grandfathers – both having died the year before my birth. I remember my grandmothers, and was particularly close with one until she died when I was eleven. I still have her last letter to me. My other grandmother, having raised a brood of her own, had little interest in the role.
My mother, thank goodness, has never lost her caring nature. Nothing thrills her more than a new baby in the family, and in some ways, I think that’s what keeps her going.
It warms my heart that my children and their children have such a close relationship with this woman, who raised six of us. Having endured more hardship than any one person deserves, she is a testament to survival, and teaches that there is always something in life to be joyful about.
(For Nancy Merrill’s A Photo a Week Challenge: Grandparents.)