To my departed

Alma King was a furnace of anxious ambition driven by countless experiences with hardship. What I'll miss most is her ability to laugh at tragedy; She grew up poor & tough in a family of 15 in government camps and working f cotton and bean fields while raising her younger siblings. All during the depression with a mother who wasn't around much. She went on to get married in her teens and have three kids by the time she was 21. Subsequently, her oldest son died first in Vietnam at 22, the second of cancer at 41, and her youngest at 56 of cancer, she outlived them all and her husband, who also died of cancer. Here’s a story that sums her up for me: In her 70’s she fell and broke her hip while cleaning the yard. Since she lived alone and refused to use a cell phone she simply dragged herself all the way to the front of the house, up the porch stairs, into her favorite rolling chair, pushed herself down the hall, got into bed and proceeded to take a nap. When I asked why she didn’t call for an ambulance right away she replied incredulously, "Well, what you got yourself for!?"

Learn to handle yourself, work hard, discourage victimhood, cut out people who poison your path, and learn to laugh at the constant tribulations of existence.

Rest easy now Grandma Penny, I literally wouldn't be here without you. At least I’m comforted knowing you can no longer object to me blaming you for all my shortcomings. 😂