To the woman who got us off the bus every day after school.
To the woman who was proud of my brother and I for every little achievement.
To the woman who taught me how to swim.
To the woman who gave me a bible and took my brother and I to church every Sunday.
To the woman who could make me angrier more than anyone else.
To the woman who used to wear size 6 red heels on Sunday.
To the woman who only wore lipstick and powder.
To the woman who loved azaleas in the spring.
To the woman who wrote a letter to me every week in college.
To the woman who drove me to piano lessons every Wednesday for seven years.
To the woman who sent me to the United Kingdom when I was eighteen so that I could live an experience outside of the US.
To the woman who was so excited about becoming a great-grandmother, but never had the chance to meet her great-granddaughter.
To the woman who paid off my credit card debt in college and made me promise that I would never use a credit card like that again. (I never did, Grandma.)
To the woman with the quickest temper of anyone I know.
To the woman who loved so fiercely.
To the woman who loved God.
To the woman who sent me card for every single holiday, even when she could barely sign her name.
To the woman who volunteered at my elementary school for twenty years.
To the woman who had to balance her checkbook down to the last penny.
To the woman who made me who I am today.
I will miss hearing your voice every day and I love you so much.
Love, your Granddaughter.
Wanda Miner
January 4, 1931- April 6th, 2013