and Oh the difference to me...

My wife's grandmother past away last Saturday. Completely unexpected, she was spring cleaning. Her work ethic was that of an ox, she would pick up sticks around the house, mow the 2 acres, clean the house, power wash the outside, clean gutters, rake/blow leaves and the list goes on and on. On top of that she would come back into the house and cook dinner for her husband. This was an extraordinary woman. Whose devotion to family was second to none. If she had the money she would give it to who needed it. I think about a 1/4 of my sons clothes and toys were given to him by her. I don't know where this work ethic came from but I imagine it was cultivated through out the years.

I only knew her for about 4 and a half years but she began to mean so much to me. It will take many years to work through this. This is the poem I would like to leave you with.

She dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love.

A Violet by a mossy stone
Half-hidden from the Eye!
---Fair, as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky!

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her Grave, and, Oh!
The difference to me.


Published, Lyrical Ballads, 1800