Ona Lacher

My grandmother would be 115 if she were alive today. It's her birthday. March 7, 1899. I wish I had known her. Maybe she would have helped me be a better person? Who knows. Not that I'm a bad person. I happen to think I'm a decent guy. But there's always room for improvement. I would have loved to hear stories of her growing up at the turn of the 20th century. And how bad it really was during the depression. My mom always told me she was the kindest loving woman you could ever meet. She was so sweet to my mom when my dad came home with his new bride. I'll never forget in February 2010 when I took that trip to Iowa and I found her and my Grandpa's (Franklin Lacher) graves. The tears just started flowing. So many emotions. Wishing I could thank them for raising my dad. Wishing I could have met them (I did meet my Grandma when I was one). Just being so close to them physically, yet so far away. Wondering if they were looking down on me. And what they were thinking. And what advice they would give me. Would they be mad at me for not achieving to my potential? Or would they just love me because I'm their flesh and blood. I stood there crying for a good ten minutes on that cold winter afternoon in the middle of a small town in Iowa. It was wonderful.