It's a sad day here in dustbunny land. My sister called this morning and let me me know that my grandmother had just died. Today is was her 95th birthday. Yet another notch on the old "I hate birthday's" belt.

She was a wonderful lady, the youngest of 10 or eleven. They grew up very, very poor on an old farm in upstate NY. A couple of her sisters died at a very young age from rheumatic fever but all of her other siblings lived to a ripe old age (just like her).

My grandmother was a very independent woman. When my grandpa died in '66 she went back to work as a meat cutter to support herself. Luckily she only had herself since both of her children had already had families of their own. I remember her kicking and screaming when it was time for her to retire - she didn't want to do it. It wasn't until her eyesight started going (and her job became too dangerous) that she agreed.

At 90 she was still an active part of everyone's life. My DH said that she would outlive all of us! Fateful words, since it wasn't long after that she got her first infection. From then on, she would get over one and just inherit a worse one. The Doctors did everything they could, but we have been expecting this day since she was first put on hospice care 3 years ago.

I will miss her! Happy Birthday Grandma!