Raised in the coal fields of western Pennsylvania, my grandmother learned the value of hard work and the modesty of her blue collar immigrant parents. Throughout the years, she would always say to me, how our family's farm reminded her of her own childhood. She would tell me stories of West Deer. She would tell me the stories of the men that worked the mines. It seemed insignificant to me at the time, but as the older I got, I realized she was teaching me the same values that was passed down to her. We connected on this level. She made me feel special and unique. The older I got, I realized she did this with everyone of us. To understand the magnitude of, you have to look at the numbers; eight children, seventeen grandchildren, and now six (soon to be seven) great-grandchildren . She never ran out of love.
I'll miss her wonderful laugh. I'll miss her cut throat style of playing skipbo. I'll miss the wonderful visits. Most of all, I'll miss her strength. My mom said it best, somewhere up there, her and Opa are driving around in their motorhome. I'm sure that every once in a while, they'll check in on us, just when we need it most. I love you Oma....
TTFN
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