It's been 3 years last week since my Grandma died. Thinking about her makes me cringe and smirk all at once. Gosh I miss her spunk, her perseverance, her passion. Several years ago, while Grandma was still living, an attorney and I were talking and he mentioned something Grandma had done or said. I remember thinking, "Oh Grandma." and shaking my head. I'll never forget what Hugh told me. He said his father had told him years before that she was a "survivor." I've thought of that moment time and time again.  For some, she was too strong and opinionated; for most probably. Still, thinking about our years working and doing life together, I smile and miss her.

I wonder, just as I have for the years since Hugh said those words, which experiences made her a "survivor." Was it doubling the number of children she had by adopting 4 more while her own were still small? Maybe it was working at the packing house, or driving a straight-truck hauling seed-corn. Perhaps it was opening her own real estate office in 1981 and surviving in that market for more than 25years? Could it have been losing grandpa? Being alone for 10 years before marrying again? Maybe it was taking on the fight with ovarian cancer, and beating the odds. Was it spending her years working with people who didn't speak her language, needed help with everything from credit and immigration to jobs, children, and rides? Maybe it was her passion for serving and sharing her faith in a culture so wrapped up in being "politically correct."

Grandma was an amazing, spitfire, loving and passionate person. She never was afraid to speak her mind and tell people exactly what it was that they should be doing with their lives or their children. She loved people she didn't even know because she knew they needed loving. I've come to the conclusion that Bill was right about Grandma, she was a "survivor" but she did so much more than survive, she really loved in a way many are afraid to do. I only hope one day I can do the same.