Isn't it funny that the older we get, the more we realize we are just like our parents and grandparents?
I first physically saw myself in my grandma Joan a week before she died. Most of my life I had known I shared many of her mannerisms (one of the many reasons we got along so well), but that week, I noticed we had the same hands.
Like so many things that week, that realization changed me.
Now I look down at my hands all the time, and I see her hands. Sometimes I see her in my eyes and smile as well.
Our niece Eliza spent the weekend with us a few weeks ago. While she was here, she stopped in our hallway and stared at a picture of Joan that was taken when she was around 12 years old.
She wanted to know if the photograph was of me. I told that it was my grandma. She said, "She looks like you."
Yes, I suppose she does.