Found out today that my great-grandmother's first cousin died. She lived 97 years and 9 days. I couldn't help but notice this time span. Here's why
As my mom said, "it is the end of a generation."
She married only in her later years (40's or so) and then her husband died very shortly thereafter (within a year).
Lived alone the rest of her life in downtown Chicago. She was a fine lady and my family made a point of visiting with her whenever we were in town.
I remember when I was 8 or 9, my dad had a trial in Chicago and brought me along. Minna took me around town for the entire day. I still remember looking down on Michigan Avenue from her apartment. Amazing how some childhood memories stick with you.
I had just written her a note, congratulating her on reaching her 97th birthday (aside from some loss of hearing, she had ALL of her faculties). She reached that milestone on August 31st.
You just never know when the exact time is going to come.
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