Her name was Celestine and her daughter married Virginie’s son. She was the wife of Pierre whose picture ends this post. He was so handsome and she was so…not pretty. I guess this is partly because she belongs to the story that I think that she is ugly. Frankly she was not beautiful but one can’t really tell she was ugly either.
Here is the story on my grand-father’s side:
Celestine and Pierre got two children. A daughter and a son. Celestine was so evil, so mean, so abusive that it is hard to imagine to day what she did back then. She was so violent that she put her son’s eye out. Yes.
As soon as he was old enough he ran away and we don’t know what has been his story.
Imagine what kind of daughter she raised.
And this woman was my grand father’s mother. So on one hand he had Virginie as a grand mother and on the other one he had Celestine.
Celestine’s daughter was not much better but my grand father got from his father’s more than his mother’s. He never touched my mom or her sister. Yet, now that I think of it, I realize that he remained an abused little boy all his life. Now that I think of it I understand better why I never liked him as a child. He scared me. Not because he was mean, just because he was as nice as a bear that you wake up in the middle of winter. But I know he loved me. Beside I was his only grand child for over 6 years!
He made my baby bed, he made a little stool for me, he made a wooden pupet for me. I have nothing left of the things he made for me, I wish he were still alive and make one last thing I could keep forever.
Oh and just for the fun! Here is a pic of my grand-father’s father (Virginie’s son) when he was in the army. He is easy to spot for me since my grand father looked a lot like him when younger. But for you to find him let’s say that he is the one who looks the best, the one who looks at you straight in the eyes, the one whose middle name could be self-confidence.