My Grandmother died last night. She had celebrated her 99th birthday last September. My favorite stories about her:
She used to tell us about her dog, Sport, "who wasn't afraid of man or beast" quite a bit.
About twelve years ago, she wasn't feeling so well. So she hopped into her car and drove the eight or so blocks to the local hospital. She went to the emergency room and they told her, "Mrs. Jeppesen, you're having a heart attack." I think she was something like 86.
Once I saw a ceramic coffee mug that had been "sliced" down the center, with the caption "half a cup of coffee" in its glaze. I always thought it would be funny to get it for her because she was always Norwegian Polite (sort of a variation on the Jewish Grandmother) and never wanted anything unless you were getting up to get it anyway (and then it was always "oh, just half a cup").