I was looking at my datebook recently, and realized, with a bit of a shock, that today (May 9th) marks 50 (!!) years since my paternal grandmother -- my Baba -- passed away suddenly, at the far too young age of 68 (the same age dh is now, and not too much older than I am). I was 14, and although I'd lost a puppy when I was a pre-schooler, this was my first real experience with the death of a person close to me.
Our Katie was named (in part) after her.
Rather than reinvent the wheel, I'll direct you to two previous posts I wrote about my grandmother:
- Grandmother's Day (written 15!! years ago today, in 2010)
- Flashback (from 2011)
Thinking of you today, Baba. I wish we'd had you for longer, and that I'd known you better.
It's very scary when we start to reach the age where we lost relatives, isn't it? I lost my maternal grandfather when I was about five or six, and he would only have been in his 60s too. That seemed so old at the time, but so young now. It's been nice to remember your Baba through your posts.
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