Wedding day, 1946. My maternal grandparents. "Grammy and Papa" She was born in 1910, and he in 1914 (if I remember correctly).
He was a big fan of Pavarotti and would sit in his recliner and sing along sometimes after dinner. While I was on gradeschool spring break with my dad in the mid-80s he died of heart failure.
She always spoke plainly about dying. Maybe after he was gone, she realized her children were grown and the rest of life was just waiting around- I don't really know because we were all sort of wierded out by the way she would talk and never really talked with her about it.
Misty and I went to see her with my mom a couple of nights ago. She hardly looks like herself. She was always small, but now she's not eating and has become tiny- and the effect is magnified by the fact that she lies in the fetal position. It's hard for me to see her that way. I remember her best working in the kitchen after I got out of school. She was always making something for someone and she was great at it. The alzheimer's disease took most of her away a long time ago, and it just isn't stopping.
I've missed her for a long time.