Yesterday was my Grandmother's birthday. January 11th. I think she would have been 94. I loved my Grandma. She was an amazing woman. Sweet. Simple. Kind. Quiet. She loved her cat, gardening, baking, pickling carrots, and going to church. She took care of the elderly doing home care for a living. A religious woman with a tender heart. The only thing she ever wanted was for our family to get back together again. It was ironic, yet poetic, that it took her death to do it. Literally her dying wish. She died on my birthday in 1998. I got a call from my Uncle Joe, who I rarely spoke to, called me at 12:06am. I was in college. I was up surprised yet impressed that he had remembered my birthday even if it was 6 minutes past. I picked up and said "Uncle Joe! You remembered my birthday!"