This morning at 2:30am, my Grandma Gie went home. She was 96 years old. There just isn't enough blog space to tell you all how much she meant to me.
She was born Margaret Rose in a very small town in northern Iowa. She married young and raised seven children on a poor farm alongside the love of her life, my grandpa Lloyd, during the Great Depression. Both had high school educations, with a life-long love of learning and the written word. She could quote classic poetry and literature. She could play piano like a pro, and by ear. She could whip anyone's butt in poker, 500, and word games. She made food that would make the Pope weep. She lived to a ripe old age with all her mental faculties intact, and lived to see 22 grandchildren, and at last count about 100 great and great-great grandchildren. She smoked like a chimney and ate all the wrong foods. Her humor was legendary. I want to grow old just like her.
I'm going to miss her more than words can say. She's my hero. Walk with God Grandma.