Jean L. Prusaitis

Being at Grandma Prusaitis's house, as a kid, was the closest thing to being at home. We used to walk in, and to my mom's embarrassment, immediately open up the fridge and the cabinets, as if we hadn't eaten in days. We were just so comfortable there, with her and Grandpa. I have so many memories of being there....someone always getting a home perm at the kitchen table, playing with my cousins in the basement bar (!), picking berries and rhubarb in the back yard, playing out on the driveway with Grandpa's car jack (someone would stand on it and the other person would pump it up). I remember the smell of her gas stove, the coffee brewing in the kitchen, and just sweet, fun moments of being free and happy and loved. Grandma just always felt like home.

I loved your sweet smile, the comfort I felt in your cozy little house, your garden, picking mulberries, and climbing your cherry tree. You are forever in my heart. Your number one Grandaughtet Pamela Jean

I will always especially remember each visit I had at Christmas, just how much I looked forward to seeing my cousins and how kind and PATIENT Aunt Jean was with her crazy relatives from Cross Plains. I have always kept a warm spot in my heart for Aunt Jean.

Grandma, I always loved coming to your house. You always had a sweet smile and warm hugs. You always made me feel loved. I loved rummaging through your old photos and clothes, finding new treasures every time. Summer days picking berries and rhubarb, and Grandpa letting me ride the mower. I miss you Grandma, and I'll always carry you in my heart. Love, Melissa Lorraine

I got music from my mother and it was the last thing we shared.