Thank You Grandma

When my sister Ann was born, they lost our mother because they gave her the wrong blood at the time. They gave my dad his calling up papers to go in the army, the war was just starting. At the time, Ann was six weeks old and there was another three of us and he had to settle us all with somebody. My grandmother took us in, my dad was shipped out to India and we never saw him for 4 ½ years.
My grandmother was our hero, we thanked her, but if we could see her again, we’d really like to thank her, because she’d raised nine children of her own and took four babies in.
It was really hard for my dad, he was grieving; he’d lost his wife and he had to go to war and leave the four of us. I can remember him coming home, we were standing on my grandmothers doorstep, and she said “Is that Frank? It is him!” He was walking down the street with his kit bag on his shoulder and he came in, we all hid behind my grandmother’s apron. He went into the pantry and took his kit bag off. I can remember peeping around the pantry door saying to him “Are you our dad?” And he said “Yes, I am and I’m never going to leave you again.” And he never did, he was a great dad. He died at the age of forty-nine through injuries he’d sustained during the war. He was a really great guy.

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