I lost my grandma yesterday. She was 99 years old. She would've been 100 in just a little over a month. Despite her age, she lived on her own and took care of herself, and her death was unexpected. Even though I'm happy for her that she's no longer suffering, and that she'll be with my grandpa (they were married over 50 years when he died) I'm going to miss her. My grandma had spunk, and she had been, literally, EVERYWHERE.
She had a lot of great stories to tell, like the fact that in 1950, she and my grandpa were among a small group of African-Americans who went to Norway and attended the award ceremony for Ralph Bunche, the very first black man to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. She also had so many stories that I regret that I will never get to hear. But most of all, she believed in me. After she learned that I was writing a book, she told everyone she met that I was a writer, and she was actually proud of that fact!
Rest in Peace Grandma, you will be missed.