A story inspired by another story

My grandmother was a tough woman.

She had to be.

She wouldn't have survived had she not been.

I mean, she raised my father and his brothers and sisters. That's enough to make anyone crazy.

She was an amazing woman. And I miss her greatly.

Everyday.

She got married during the Depression. She sewed and helped to make a living. But it was my grandfather who went out everyday to find odd and end jobs to bring home money for the growing family.

She sewed her five children clothes. She cooked. She cooked from scratch, mind you. She cleaned, helped with homework, cleaned messes, helped my grandfather learn English, worked in the garden, wiped noses, changed diapers, hugged her children, and one by one, let them leave the nest. She watched her oldest daughter move to Florida, her youngest to Oregon and my father to Kansas. Only two were close by, but she had Carmen. Her love for just shy of 74 years.

She didn't get paid for the hard work she did. She scraped and saved, made the best with what she had and put her children first. She taught them to read, gave them things and let them excel in their talents. She never discouraged, never said bad words and always put anisette in her tea.

It's been almost 4 months since I was in Boston to say goodbye. I still can't believe it. My father and his siblings recently went out there to clean out their parents' house. My father brought home a few things for us and for himself. He got the mirror he wanted. He also got his father's dresser. And I think that was the one thing he truly wanted. A piece of his father. I got some jewelry I so desired. A piece of my grandmother.

I have a hat from my grandfather Cooper. Jewelry from my Nana Bianco. And a voicemail from Grandpa Bianco. A voicemail from when he turned 100. I wrote an article about him in my newspaper and sent him a copy. That was 2006. He passed a year later. Grandpa Cooper went in for surgery for his back. I was going to go up to Newton when he got home. He didn't make it home. That was 2004, six weeks after my father's best friend died of a 2 month battle with cancer.

Both of my grandfather's took care of my grandmothers. They fixed things, got up on chairs to get things down that were too high, held her hand when going on walks. They made sure she was okay, and held her when she cried. Both of my nana's would make sure their husband's ate things they liked and helped when they were needed. And didn't help other times. They baked cakes for their birthdays and smiled when they were sad.

They each let the other be themselves. They helped the other up the stairs when the stairs got too hard. They stayed by the other's side as long as they needed. They were by each other's side for more years than I can imagine.

Between both sets of grandparents, there was nearly 134 years of marriage between both sets. The Bianco's were thisclose to 74 years. Grandpa left a week before his 74th anniversary. And the Cooper's were 60 years. They celebrated 60 years in May and Grandpa was gone in October.

My parents have been married for 42 years and my father spoils my mom like crazy. Just the way he should.

My grandmother Bianco didn't have a "real" job outside the home but she kept that house alive and well. She kept her children out of trouble (or tried to), washed clothes, knitted and found time to see her girlfriends.

She had a long, wonderful, tough life. I sure hope my life can be as fulfilling as hers was.

My writing about her and the rest of my grandparents don't do them justice. They are all too amazing for my words.

If their goal was to set an example of how to live life, mission accomplished.