By Lori Bitter
My grandmother died in January 2012 at the age of 98. I had the privilege of writing her obituary. As I finished it, I was struck by how little it said about her force in my life. We had an unusual bond. I came to live with my grandparents at six weeks old — a result of young, divorced parents.
My grandparents were in advertising in the 1950s, and they were the life of the party. I was surrounded by beautiful, creative and fun-loving adults who were artists, musicians and entertainers. I learned to sing, dance and “play office.”
When they retired to their farm, I learned that my grandmother loved raising and riding horses. She was beautiful to watch, and a little disappointed that I didn’t share this passion. Gram could butcher a live chicken — scary! — and make the most amazing pot of chicken and homemade noodles. My love of food and cooking comes from being at her elbow from the time I could stand. I can’t count the number of people she fed — often, surprise-guests my grandfather brought home. This says loads about her sense of humor!
I love her artwork, share her passion for antiques and “junking” and will always love hearing her play the piano or the ukulele . . . but her sense of humor is her legacy. Her best friends were people who in their darkest hour would share a laugh together and move on to a better time. A lovely legacy.
Lori Bitter is the publisher of GRAND Magazine.
GRAND Readers: We welcome you to contribute your reminiscences of your grandparents (250- 450 words). Submit to GRAND by email.
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