One was a genius whom I never met but feel as
though he is as close to me as an old, doting uncle.
The other was a stubborn, loving woman who gave
me her heart. I still remember all her stories, the funny
and the sad and my time spent with her still lives deep
within me. I spent my summers in that stone house until
that August day in 1975 when Grandma Maria took her
last breath. She lay on a cot under the framed photo of
the man she loved, her thick left hand wrapped around
the fingers of my right. She was surrounded by family
and friends, dying in proper company.
HYLAND
