My paternal grandmother's name was Florentina, and she was the perfect grandmother. She and my grandfather lived with us (my grandfather, who is now 89, still lives with us) were there for most of our lives and into my early teens, helping my parents raise us, and they were there through the biggest events in our early childhoods. Lola (as we Filipinos refer to our grandmothers) always had a smile on her face, and would always keep my siblings and I close to her while she would tell us stories about her life in the Philippines. Her life was never easy, as she and Lolo (grandfather) would go on to raise eight kids, of which 3 died before they were 3 years of age, and of which one would also die in a fatal car accident leaving my Dad as the only surviving male heir along with his three surviving sisters. Lola and Lolo weren't rich by any means, but they were able to support themselves and their family, and my Dad became a breadwinner early on as he would be the first one in the family to go on to college. But Lola was always proud, and took great pride in her kids and especially her grandchildren (and their accomplishments). I still remember coming home after having been given an award for being on the honor roll at school, and Lola was so proud to the point of being in tears (she then demanded for a celebration- yup, I was spoiled by her too). I knew she was even happier than I was, and that was the kind of grandmother she was.

Lola loved to gamble. And though I never inherited that quality (if you could call it that), Lola taught me about enjoying the life and living each day as if it were the last. Lola lived a fulfilling life, and was determined not to let little things get in the way of having fun. But she also taught us how to love, and to always think of others before ourselves. It is a lesson I still try to live by today, and I hope I have accomplished this on the most part.

My Lola's death in 1990, on the eve of the end of my first year in high school, was one of the saddest moments of my life. This lovely lady with a heart of gold, and one so full of life, was eaten away by lung cancer. It was all so sudden as this vibrant figure who so dominated our lives was taken from us. I never got over it, and not a day goes by that I do not think of this wonderful lady.

I'm posting this review to honor her today, which would have been her 92nd birthday. Lola was truly an angel, and today, she is my guardian angel. I miss her today, and 19 years after her death, the lessons she taught us are still inside us all, her family.

I admire and love my grandmother, and I hope I've made her a little proud for what I've done so far.

When I was young, my mother was still in school, so I was brought up by my grandparents at least during day time. However, I rarely saw my grandmother as she got together with her friends everyday to gamble. In many ways I think I turned out to be a lot like my grandmother, both good traits and bad.

My grandmother was not a very traditional woman of her days. She ran away from an arranged marriage, met my grandfather and married him instead. He did manage to have 3 sons and 1 adopted daughter. Strangely, she was never a fan of kids, including her own. We were told the stories of her going gambling even when her kids were sick or in pain. She especially disliked the kids in the neighborhood, calling them wild kids who belong to no one. My mother told me that I was her favorite, the only grandchild she seemed to like. I once told her when I was about 5 years old that she can be the one to walk me down the aisle on my wedding day. By that time my grandmother was already in her 70's, so she responded "silly grandchild, if only I am still around". She was the first of my close relatives to die in my life. I remember how much I cried in bed when I thought of her.

In many ways she was not what one would call a nice person, a noble human being, or a great woman by any means, but I admire her because she was head strong, an independent thinker, and very non-traditional for what was to be expected as a woman during her time.

She's good at popping out kids.

My grandmother was born in 1888, the year of the Great Blizzard, in Hoboken, NJ, but she grew up in the same section of NY that Cagney came from. She remembered NY when goats used to roam the muddy streets, and she told me how exotic Chinese men used to seem to her, with long braids and fingernails. She grew up dirt poor, and lost 2 brothers to disease. She married a Canadian, who became crippled as the result of his work. She raised 2 sons and a daughter (my mother) in Jersey City during the Depression. Everyone was poor then, and they were even that much poorer because of her husband's inability to work. She did what she could to raise her family, at one point even working as a janitress in the building where they lived. She nearly lost one son to diptheria (a disease nearly unheard of now). He was treated at a charity hospital built by Mayor Frank "I Am The Law" Hague. Although Hague is justly regarded as one of the most corrupt politicians who ever lived, my grandmother always held him in high regard because his hospital saved my uncle's life. Because of her poverty, she never got her eyes examined and ended up virtually blind. I remember her washing my mouth out with soap when I learned how to swear; I remember her letting me watch horror movies in her room late on those nights when my parents had gone out, even after they had decreed that I should be in bed early. When I got suspended in junior high school, and the vice principal called my house, he got my grandmother and I'm not sure he recovered from the tongue lashing she administered to him for days. "My Eddie," she said, "couldn't have done anything wrong." I also remember her annoying me with Biblical tracts, telling me to "Read this, Eddie, and pray." My parents had to put her in a nursing home in south Jersey at the end of her life, and I used to go down there monthly to visit her. It was always depressing, but she remained mentally alert right to the very end. The last time I visited her, she was cursing up a nasty blue streak, certainly something she had never done in my lifetime. It disturbed me greatly, and I remember telling my mother at the time, "I'm not sure how often I can keep coming down here. I'm not sure I can take this." A month later, my grandmother was dead. She was a simple woman, but she was strong for the people in her life that she loved. I sometimes find myself hoping that the God she seemed to take such solace in throughout her life exists and that she's in a happy place now. Even if such a God doesn't exist, I do take comfort in the thought that she's finally at peace.

I didn't know my grandmother very well. She died when I was very little, but I do know she loved me and I loved her.

My grandfather's help meet in every since of the term. They were/are survivors and were/are dedicated to their family.

I love my grandmother, but just don't have the same level of admiration for her as I for my grandfather or parents. There is no lack of respect for her that doesn't give her a 5, but her influence wasn't necessarily as great as some of the others in my life.

my grandmother is the sweetest person that u would ever met

My grandmother made life bearable. She allowed me to be a kid when my parents expected me to me a miniature adult. She allowed me to be me. When my husband tells me I'm a lot like her, I take it as very high praise. She was the best and miss her very much.

Grandma got run over by a reindeer. ... Nah, just kiddin'. My paternal grandmother scolded me cuz she thought I was talkative and troubled. I liked her, just didn't trust her. My maternal one couldn't understand English cuz of her Mexican heritage. She did give me souvenirs expressing her love for me. I admire her for that. Both died in the 1980's.

My Paternal Grandmother died when I was 16.She was a gem of a woman,but I was too young and foolish to realize how wise she was and how soon she'd be gone.I remember a woman who never spoke an unkind word toward anyone.She embodied the philosophy of Unconditional Love.