We went to a birthday party for a much loved Grandma this weekend. She was turning 90 years old.
I can't stop thinking of my own Grandma who wasn't here that long.
Her name was Opal, but she hated it. She told people her name was Kathy.
She was Southern. Beautiful and delicate on the outside. Probably quite sad on the inside.
She had a husband before my Grandfather. She likely married him while she was still a child. No one knows his name. I don't know if I remember my mother telling me or if it is the scene I see in my mind, but the story goes that he came home with another woman and threw her out. That's probably the tame version. I don't think she was ever divorced, I don't think that's how it was done then. I wonder all the time if she had a child that no one knows about, if that was the source of her quiet pain.
She said had a sister named Ruby who disappeared. She said she had another sister who gave birth on a dining room table. She had a brother who killed himself. She said she was one of the "mountain people" who could heal you with their mind. She said a lot of things. I have no idea if any of them were true, but I want to believe them all.