Born at the end of World War I, spending her teenage years during the Great Depression, my grandmother had a frank sense of life, a keen sense of frugality, and a phenomenal sense of industriousness. She was quite proud of a handful of dresses she had made herself, and wore them regularly. She was not one to waste a morsel of food, wrapping it carefully for the next meal, when one bite of this or that would still be quite satisfying. She was not one to be sentimental about the chickens in the chicken coop or the milking cow, but would soften like butter to the purr of a baby kitten. And she could fight with her closest sister, Ora (even pitching her walker in her direction!), but when they found themselves widows, they pooled their resources, and found each other to be great comfort during the last thirty years of their lives.
She was baptized in the river on her family homestead, waiting years to do so after recovering from undulant fever she acquired after drinking bad milk. She was actually wheeled to the creek in a wheel chair, and helped into the river to be baptized. Her hearty nature helped her survive, and she continued until she she was weeks from being 95 yrs. old before she passed away.
I'm not sure how death works. -- If it needs a reason at all, a heart attack or stroke, or if it just comes of it's own accord. I know Grandma died in her sleep, that she was fed her last meal by a previous caretaker who found it most encouraging that Grandma continued to eat through her dessert. I know the doctors felt her blood work and all their other tests appeared fine.
May her soul be at peace.
