How Does One Reconcile The Notion That The Woman With Whom You The Extent Of Sainthood?

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How does one reconcile the notion that the woman with whom you idolized to the extent of Sainthood, was indeed a mere human? One with flaws, faults, and an undeniable pension for being ruthlessly condescending. It wasn’t until I had reached my mid 30’s that I realized my grandmother was far from the Saint that I had always made her out to be. At times she was a domineering, overbearing naysayer who rarely saw the good in people. That being said, she was also quick witted, loved to laugh, kind-hearted, and fiercely protective of her family, even if they were often on the receiving end of her venomous tongue. As a child she would let me crawl in her bed when I was frightened, feed me mountain berry rebel ice cream when I was gloomy, let me stay up far too late to watch “Murder She Wrote” or “Jeopardy” and always had an entertaining story about our family to tell me. Always one to turn a blind eye to my obvious failures and to offer a quick hand to bail be out both emotionally, as well as, financially throughout my young adult life. My perception of her hadn’t changed until many years after she had passed. The pedestal I placed her on had not been knocked down exactly, but what once was a marble statue upon it, now sat a tarnished figurine. Still beautiful and magnificent but not holy pristine. My grandmother had lived either next door or with us since I was 5 years old. If truth be told, we had lived with her. A short time after my grandfather past away, she

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