Yesterday evening while watching TV with E we got the call. E's Grandmother Marsha "Baggie" had died. She passed away in a rest home while sleeping; we are all hoping it was painless.
Everyone that loved her called her Baggie. When E was a tiny kid, he had a hard time saying "grandma" and for some reason one day he said "Baggie" and it stuck. Baggie loved that E had given her a special name, and everyone seemed to think it was perfect.
Baggie grew up at the farmhouse, she was the youngest of 11 children, and the first to be born in a hospital rather than at the house. She was a wild child who loved causing trouble, sneaking into neighbors' yards and letting her kitty Percival in through the upstairs window at night.
Baggie loved her grandchildren most of all. She was happiest telling stories about her grandchildren. Two of her very favorites was E's "lellow" sock story and when the hen chased David across the yard at the farmhouse. She would laugh and laugh.
Baggie, you will be missed.
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