Today would've been my Grammy's 89th birthday. She may not have given birth to me, but in every other sense of the word, she was my mother. She's been gone for 14 years now, and I still miss her everyday.
She married my Papa when she was 14 years old. Shocking today, but not so much back then. She lived in a time when water had to be hauled from a well and clothes were washed with a washboard. Because Papa worked in the coal mines, she had to shop at the company store using scrip. Within two years of being married, she had two babies just 13 months apart. During the next five years, she suffered several miscarriages before finally having another baby. All before the age of 21.
She raised her three children and kept everything together while Papa was in the Navy during WWII, and the Marines during the Korean War. Life had to be hard, but she wasn't a complainer.
She was a very religious woman, and she was one of those rare people who actually lived her beliefs. She was one of the strongest women I have ever known. She loved working crossword puzzles and watching Jeopardy. She loved the beach and her family. She always wore a dress. She was an amazing cook. No matter where I went or what I did, I always knew that she loved me.
It hurts that she's no longer here, but I was incredibly lucky to have had someone like her in my life. She helped make me into the person I am today.
Happy Birthday, Grammy. I love you.