Dyslexia can be traced in our family back to my paternal grandmother. She had a rough time growing
|Cute pic, but the look on the kid’s face cracks
up. In addition to the then undiagnosed dyslexia, she lived with an extended family member, owing to the fact her mom suddenly became single at the tail end of WWI when her dad vanished.
In those days, things were a lot harsher on girls and women than they are today in this country. They were doubly so for single moms and their kids. Being unable to read well, or keep up with the other kids in school, just made the struggle worse for granma.
She grew into a strong lady. Even if we didn’t have much of a personal relationship, I’m glad to have known her.
The last time I talked to her, years before her passing, she had told me that if she’d known her dyslexia was hereditary, she never would have had children. That comment spoke volumes about her suffering, and how much it hurt her to know what I’d gone through because of mine.
I’m glad she decided to have her kids, though. I wish she could have been given the opportunities that I had growing up and have now, but I also realize she wouldn’t have become the woman she was without those struggles.
So, here’s to you granma. I wish we were closer, but that’s the way life sometimes goes.
And here’s to my mothers – birth, step and in-law, plus Oma. You’ve each done so much more for me than I can ever express proper gratitude for.
Finally, here’s to all the moms who fight tooth and nail to get what their kids need. Thanks for all of your efforts to make sure your kids get the best chances possible, and for sharing whatever help, advice or wisdom you do with the rest of the world.