My first love
I was four years old when I was separated from my grandmother. I can still remember how awful I felt. My father had finally gotten settled in Germany and sent for the rest of us one summer. It was the first of many heartbreaks I'd experience in life. No child should ever have its heart broken like that if one can help it.My grandmother was my first love ever. I loved her before I even knew how to love my mother or my father or the myriad of family members that doted on the first baby of the new generation.
She was a kick-ass woman. Tiny (my 5'10" frame towered over her 5'4" body), but stubborn as a mule and incredibly strong. She had an unforgettable, shining personality. If you ever had the good fortune to come across her, you'd be left with a very strong impression that you've just encountered greatness.
I don't say any of this because she was my grandmother. I've got several family members that are good, but don't really qualify for words of praise. But my grandmother...I was in awe of her. I'm convinced that if I had spent my years growing up with her, I'd be a completely different person right now. No worries though...a lot of her did rub off on me, so at least I've got some residue.
Wishing you all a very Happy Valentine's Day!
