My grandmother died a few weeks ago, here is my obituary for her:
My Grandmother died today at the age of 95 years upon this Earth. She went out gently, in her bed, at home. She quit eating a couple of days ago, and simply fell asleep in her bed to awaken with my Pawpaw, her friend and husband of 70 years. Regardless of my beliefs, hers were one of a Heaven were she would rejoin him, and I hope for her sake that is what happens.
She was born in 1910 to an immigrant family from Switzerland. She began her life in Biloxi Mississippi, in a tar paper shack built on someone else's property. By the time she was a teenager, her father was a prosperous truck farmer, with 200 acres of soil under till. She worked the land throughout her life.
My Pawpaw entered the picture in 1931, driving his home built hotrod (A ford chassis with an upturned wooden rowboat for the body), back and forth in front of her house, raising dust until she went out and stood in the middle of the road and told him to stop. His first words to her were, "I am going to marry you, get used to it". Since he came from poor stock, half Choctaw, half back-bay mullet fisherman, she was non-plussed. 6 Months later, they were married.
The reason my great-grandfather allowed the marriage was prosaic: A new road, the Pass Road, was being driven past the homestead, and Pawpaw suggested that he could re-orient the 5000+ sqft Victorian to face the new road. He raised the pier and beam house on pine rollers, borrowed 4 16-mule teams, and rotated the house in place so that it faced the new road. Great-Granpa Switzer recognized his skill and drive, and gave his blessing to the marriage.
Pawpaw had waited to marry until he could afford to buy acreage, and build a house, and for their honeymoon, my grandparents hand built a small home, with help from friends and relatives.
During the depression, Mawmaw and Pawpaw did OK, expanding their home in anticipation of children, but waited until the end of the worst before they committed to raising a family. My Uncle was born in 1939, my Father in 1941. Pawpaw entered the air force as a mechanic, and rebuilt airplane engines during the war. The pistons from those planes served as ashtrays in his home, and still do. Mawmaw, to earn money, bred and raised lilies, as well as canning all of their vegetable needs from a hand tended garden, usually around 3 acres worth. I am the proud owner of the hand plow they used to till and cultivate those gardens, and use it in my own small plot.
After the War, life became hard, as coastal Mississippi was no place to make a living, but they preservered. They put my Uncle and my Dad through college, both as Civil Engineers, and since my Mom and Dad married at 19, they also pretty much raised my brother and I until my father graduated.
Mawmaw was equally at home whacking the head off of chickens and cleaning and plucking them as she was at wearing white gloves and attending garden club social functions. She had no shame, no pride and absolutely no fear of anything. She did not tolerate fools or nonsense of any sort.
Pawpaw died in 1994 of a brain anuerism while tending the garden, and she soldiered on, though in truth, she would have preferred to pass with him. Dammit, I miss her already.
So long, Mawmaw, thanks for all you did!
