My grandmother died yesterday morning at age 100. Obviously, given her advanced years and also her declining health, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. Though, you do always think you have just a little bit longer.
Our relationship wasn’t a close one. She had a tough life. Born in 1917, she was the oldest of 6 children (outliving all but one sister). My great-grandmother died when my grandma was only 13 years old and she raised her siblings. What that entailed was quitting school and taking on house cleaning work to make their lives a little better. She lived through both World Wars and countless others, and also the Great Depression. This cemented her frugal nature and has definitely had some bearing on me, as my dad is also frugal.
Grandma was practical to a fault and often tactless. She always told me how fat I was while I was growing up. While I have many memories of her, there are two strong memories that stand out in my brain at the moment.
