She was here

A baby girl was born, with fine blonde hair and fair skin. She had blue eyes, and was the fourth daughter.
She was a happy child, despite not having much. Growing up in the shadow of the end of the war, she would suffer malnutrition, and be sent off to a country village, away from her family, so that she could survive.
Her mother would tell her she was a mistake, but she had a kindly grandmother who loved her very much.
On one particular Christmas, she and her sisters would feel grateful for each receiving an orange, because the other children they knew had received apples.
She did well in school, and had a talent for sewing and embroidery that would serve her well later in life, because she could work as a respected seamstress.
In her late teens, she fell in love with an American G.I. and was disowned by her German parents, so she eloped and never looked back. On the evening she left her hometown, her eldest sister met her at the train station with a heavy coat.
"Take this," she said, crying. "I hear it gets cold in America."
She was taken into her new husband's family with love and acceptance, and she had two daughters.
She worked as a housekeeper, a seamstress, and eventually as a translator.
Every day of her life, she had dinner on the table at 5:30 p.m. She canned fruit and vegetables, made pickles, hot sauce, and was an excellent home cook. She made the best chicken schnitzel in the world. Friends and strangers were always welcome at her table, and her house was spotless. She sewed clothing for her daughters, and tiny outfits, with tiny snaps, for their Barbie dolls.
She had an easy smile and never judged, but when double-crossed, she held a grudge. But her nature was cheerful and upbeat, and she liked to laugh and have fun.
Widowed at the age of 43, she would start over again and again, experiencing 12 very happy years with her second husband. He was a Greek who loved her like no one ever had before, and he brought life back into her eyes. But he always said that it was she who had saved him, because she brought him so much happiness and fixed him when he was broken.
She drove a Jeep Cherokee.
She let her grandsons eat vanilla pudding for breakfast.
She was unpretentious and warm-hearted.
She liked Jimmy Buffet and margaritas.
She was practical and smart, and very generous.
Her favorite artist was Vincent Van Gogh.
She loved French fries. Specifically, McDonald's French fries.
Her son-in-law was one of her best friends.
She loved Provence. And "A Year in Provence." She was a fast reader.
She gave me a robot vacuum for my 40th birthday and I was kind of disappointed and mad at her, until I realized that it was one of the best presents that anyone could give a busy mother of four. I was so stupid.
Houses. Gardens. Roses. Travels. Dancing. Holidays. Snowstorms. Apple trees. Fairytales. Tragedies. Fortitude. And love. Lots and lots of love.
She was my Mom, and I miss her. I miss her every day, and a little more today because April 12th was her birthday.