This name represents a large part of who I am today. She was and always will be my Grandmother and Guardian angel.
She met my Grandpa when he was in the air force, World War 2. She was born and raised in Quebec, Canada, and had 19 brother and sisters. When she moved to Rochester, MN with my grandpa, she did not know how to speak much english, and he did not know much french. She was a very courageous and strong young woman.
One of my favorite memories of my Grandma is her artistic abilities. The countless hours of sitting in her art studio, at a park, in the woods, at a lake, any where that inspired art, watching her paint, or her teaching me (at least trying). The smell of the fresh cut canvas, stretched on the easel; combined with the smell of the oil paints squeezed out on her painting palette, can be compared to the smell of freshly cut grass. Watching her paint was such a mystery, I used to wonder how she did it, how could she see what she was looking at and put it on a canvas so perfectly, and with such grace.
I am not huge fan of art, nor am I any good at it, however I find myself standing in art galleries often trying to catch the scent of a freshly painted oil painting to give me a picture of my Grandma.
R.I.P. Grandma
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