Grateful for the wonderful woman whose name I carry - Agnes Marietta Busath Clayton - my paternal grandmother. She died when my father was 17, but he spoke of her always, so I honestly thought I knew her.
One of the greatest impressions I had was the memory of Mother's Days and how he would always become emotional when he spoke of his mother. And in later years, as I heard other stories about her, especially from my Uncle Byron, I could see that she was a vital part of each of her boys - she had 4 - lives.
One story Uncle Byron told me was about Ted, whose face was severely cut when he was a little boy. It took many stitches and there were scars. Byron said that each night his mother would come in and place Ted's head in her lap - he was 6 or 7 - and she would massage the scars with oil. She did this for over a year he said.
I can just envision this sweet young mother tenderly caring for her small son - and I look forward to meeting her one day!
In the meantime, I am grateful that she is my grandmother!
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