This past week, April 3rd, my grandmother, Georgia Lorna Stewart Munsill, passed away. She was the first person I was truly close to, to pass away.
She lived a joy-filled 82 years, 63 of them married to my grandfather, whom she leaves behind to carry on his earthly journey.
She absolutely loved children. She carried to term two boys, my father and uncle, ten years apart.
She suffered five miscarriages in between her boys; she’s now able to hold them in her arms.
She got another dose of littles with nine grandchildren (heavy dose of boys, as I was the only granddaughter) and lived to meet three of her great-grandchildren — my brother Owen’s, lil’ Owen and Rosie, and my daughter, Evelyn. They were her shining stars.
In her honor, I made a large batch of these buttermilk waffles on Saturday morning. It was something she used to do for us whenever we would spend the night at her house. That and all those hours of board games she would play with us. It was a thrill to play games and drink root beer floats at Grandma and Grandpa’s house. She always had a stash of those bendy-straws for us to plunge into the cold foam.
We said our final goodbyes to her on Saturday morning as her husband placed a red rose, her boys white roses, and grandchildren and great-grandchildren sunflowers (her favorite) on her tomb before it was lowered into the ground. A moment in time I will never forget.