Growing up, I didn't look like anyone in my family. I have 3 sibilings, but I'm the only one with gray eyes, freckles, and dimples. My uncles often joked that I must have been adopted. One day when I was about 8, my uncle repeated the 'joke' again...this time, my petite Grandmother became angry. She stood up and pointed her somewhat arthritic finger in his face and told him sternly to never say that again! She reached out and gave me a big hug. I knew I wasn't adopted, but her reassuring gesture was very welcomed.
A few months ago, I was looking at old photos and came across one of my Grandmother (whom we referred to as Grandmaman, as she was French-Canadian and spoke no English). I tried to find the familiar face that I knew long after this photo had been taken. I covered the chin and starred at her eyes and nose and soon realized I was looking at a familiar face...MINE! I had finally found some family resemblance and was comforted to know that it was the Grandmaman that I had loved.
She was widowed after only 15 years of marriage, at age 39 with 9 children, and 8 months pregnant with her 10th child. She raised these 10 children, with help from her siblings, through the depression. There were many difficult years, but she perservered. She never remarried and lived to be 93 1/2.
I would be proud to have her beautiful, even if wrinkled, face when I'm 94.