My father's mother died when he was two years old. He has no working memory of her. My grandfather never really talked about her.
But... my grandma left a few pages about her life, written while she was in the hospital. It's not much, just a little information about her life - how much she loved my grandpa, loved my dad and a bit about her growing up years.
My dad recently found Grandma's diary in the bottom of my grandpa's tool box. My grandpa's second wife didn't want any reminders of my grandma in her house, so Grandpa did what he had to do. The diary covers the year 1942 and the very beginning of 1943. I asked my mom to take a photo of it for me.
I can't wait to visit my folks this summer and get a chance to read my grandma's words. I am tickled that there is some piece of her left, and that writing was important to her, too.