Following the sudden death of their second child (a daughter named Donna Mae), my grandfather joined the Army and was away from the family while he served in Japan. During that time, my grandmother did the typical day work that women of the time did, but she never lost sight of her dreams. When my grandfather returned from his 2-year stint in the military, the family ultimately grew to include two more daughters, Sherry and Judy, and a son, Robert.
My grandfather had a desire to leave the world of coal mines in southern Ohio, so he relocated to Cleveland to find work. My grandmother didn't have the desire to move, so she stayed near her family and continued to raise my father, aunts and uncle. She worked hard at menial jobs to help make ends meet, but in her spare time, she was involved in the church, local women's groups and the education of her children. (My dad frequently shares stories about how she made them go to the library and read on a regular basis. That same desire to learn more has passed on through my grandmother, to my father, and down to me.) My grandmother also established a Girl Scout troop in their small town so that young Black girls could take advantage of the program.
As my dad and his siblings matured and began creating their own lives, my grandparents, who had been physically separated for years, finally divorced. With her children practically grown, my grandmother worked during the day and went to college at night to obtain her degree in education. Like her mother before her, she was initially unable to find work in the public school system, but went on to become the first African American teacher at the local Catholic school, where she remained until her retirement in the early 1980s, due to issues with her health. Though the doctors (one of whom was once her student) aren't quite sure how she did it, my grandmother remained with us until the new millennium and then made her transition.
I know that she loved all of her grandchildren, but the bond that I had with my grandmother was extra special, since I am the first born child of her first born child. As the story goes, she was in Cleveland on the day before I arrived, anticipating my birth. Since it was a Sunday in September, she had to return to her students the next day, but said, "I just bet that child is going to come after I leave." She was right; I was born at 10:07 am on the very next day.
Fast forward to January 2000, when my dad and I were summoned from Detroit to her hospital room in Wheeling, WV. In her weakened state, she was able to acknowledge us and even swatted her hand at me when I took a break from rubbing her scalp. Shortly thereafter, after a couple of days of complete silence, she took up her wings and returned home, while I was in the hospital cafeteria getting breakfast.
Though she missed my entrance and I missed her exit, I am grateful for every moment that I was able to be in her presence. My prayer is that I continue to do her proud by living my best life and serving others along the way, just as she did.
I love you, Grandma! Happy Birthday!