I recently wrote a post about my aunt who has been a special needs mom for almost 50 years. My great-aunt, who is around the same age, and from the same side of the family, is another example from the long line of strong women whom I am proud to call my family. If you google her name, the first site to come up is a recent article about seniors and social media. At 87, she is connected, and using the internet to stay in touch with family. She is also a (retired) child psychologist, and still does evaluations for the local school district. In her spare time, she is on several committees in her retirement community, runs the library there, does water aerobics, cardiac fitness, zumba, and walks three miles three times a week.
Are you freaking kidding me? I can only in my wildest dreams hope to be like her when I am 87!
She and I connected because we both had an interest in genealogy, and since she is technically one of my forebears, we had even more to share. She actually wrote a family history of her parents and siblings, which I found invaluable, as my grandparents (her sister and brother-in-law) both passed away before I was really at an age to revel in their stories. It also gave some back-story to the tales I heard my father tell as I was growing up about when he was a kid, and they would drive two states away to visit “the farm” and the huge family that would descend on this mythical place. Did I mention her family story is being published?
When my uncle told me how proud he was of me, for living my life the way I have and raising my son the way I have, I didn’t know what to say. I look at these ladies, my mom, my aunt, my great-aunt, and realize that, thanks to them, I don’t know any other way to be.