Last week, in the unfortunate event of multiple deaths in my family, I had the good fortune to spend a couple of days with just my mom and grandmother. The three of us hung out, went to my grandmother's favorite restaurants, watched some of "The Roosevelts" on PBS. If not for the sadness of our unexpected losses, it would have been a great week.
My grandmother Daun is eighty-six years old and still feisty. Her body may be a bit frail, but her mind is as strong and sound as it ever was. She gave rise to four generations of intelligent, strong-willed, competent women. We are blessed to be her daughters, her grand-daughters, her great-grand-daughters.
With a little bit of grumbling from her and some gentle coaxing from me, she agreed to allow me to take her portrait. It is with honor that I share this with you today.
My grandma taught me to appreciate classical music, bird-watching, and gardening. She and I played endless games of gin rummy, which I then played with my children (my daughter beats me every time). She was still pretty young when I was born, and my brother and I were the only grandchildren for several years. I was fortunate to get to know her as a young woman and to have had so much time with her while I was growing up.
And at eighty-six, she's still a beauty!
Sometimes, in the event of a tragedy, there is a tiny seed of light shining into the heart of the darkness. My time with my mother and grandmother (and my daughter and her beau, who came into town for a day and a half) was that light last week.
Until next time...