The last couple of years, I'd tried to engage her in some biography questions via email. I learned a bit, but it didn't really work out. And now she's gone.
I wish she had written her biography, had left some more of herself behind for me to know, for my children to know, for future generations to know. I enjoy genealogy and am sometimes called the 'family historian' because others don't seem to share my interest. I have names and dates for ancestors back to the 12th century in some cases, but that's all they are: names and dates. The breath of life that was their essense is long forgotten. And I long to know them, to understand their world, their hopes and dreams, their fears, failures and greatest joys. If they'd written biographies, perhaps I would.
When I ask my living grandparents about their lives, they don't think what they have to say is anything special. They tell me they can't remember anything interesting. It's like pulling teeth to get anything from them. The stories will be lost. And that breaks my heart.
I do have one biography written by my great-great-great-grandfather Daniel Heiner and I count it among my dearest treasures. What a gift he left me, a priceless wonder to this descendant he'd never know. I pray you do the same for yours.
God speed, Grandma. I will see you again someday!