In the photograph I keep beside my bed the youthful face looks back at me, her rosy lips and blue eyes.
I can only imagine her hair was beautifully soft in gentle, blonde ringlets.
Despite the gentle, lavender dress she donned, she wore a nervous ridgedness and stern face.
She was probably the strongest woman I've ever known, with a life as geniune as she was.
The legend of this great woman lives, not through the names of the daughters and sons, but in her own right.
She is my hero.
I'm proud to wear her name, and I only hope I can give her name the great justice it deserves.
Everyday I miss her, but today I especially miss my beloved grandmother. My Gram.
My grandmother often comes to visit, and she'll leave in a day or two, but my Gram never leaves for she is always in my heart.