I am attending my first funeral that of my grandmother on my dad’s side. A woman who paved the ground I walk on today. A women that when I was age three her lap was a THE place to be. She chased my fears away by sitting with me through the storms and the Fourth of July Firetrucks that cranked by, winding their sirens unabashedly, but rather precarious for this now five year old. She who was rather plump, was a comfort to me. I could bury my face in her squishiness and hide from the world enveloped in her arms of nothing but love. Nothing but affection. Pure, unconditional love. And then after a severe stroke she was gone. I was six.

My grandmother wore red lip stick, and not a stitch of anything to bring out her beauty, as she was Always beautiful. Always.

Becky