Yesterday, my cousin and I drove to my grandmother’s house for a surprise visit. During our stay, I realized that I don’t have any bad memories of my time with her. My grandmother is a Western story-book picture kind of grandmother. Cookie tins, old movies, hand decorated cakes, and stuffed animals, encapsulated my visits with her when I was young. She always knew what to say when I was upset and I have never seen her cry. She is the strongest woman I know, and I am so fortunate to have her in my life. Last night we had a dinner at her house with a bunch of my cousins. She had to cancel her meeting with the Catholic Women’s League and I was worried that having so many people over on short notice would make her stressed out. When I asked her if she was stressed she said, “No dear, I never get stressed, I take everything that comes at me and I deal with it.” Her and I have a lot in common, when it comes to sticking up for ourselves and caring for people. And when I stay with her for prolonged periods I realize just how similar certain aspects of our personalities are. There’s a lot I can learn from her though, and I intend to do so. If I ever have kids, I intend to be just like her; the rock of the family. I wouldn’t want my kids to ever see me worry, to ever see me vulnerable, to ever see me cry.