What Good are Grandmas for, Anyway?

I am Grandma Milot, the happy author of this book. I started writing my life story in 2019, at age seventy-eight years, a grandmother of five. I finally put the dot at the end of the last chapter on January 2, 2023, four months shy of my eighty-second birthday. In between those years, I had to take a break from writing because I started being harassed by creatures with weird names like Sciatica, Arthritis, and worst, Faint, which caused me to lose consciousness and had to be delivered to my hospital's emergency unit!

My book is a story of survival of thousands of families, including my own, during the advent of World War II, when the imperial forces of Japan attacked Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941, and then bombed Manila, the capital city of the Philippines, ten hours later. I was only seven months old. My family included my father, my mother, my older sister, my older brother, and my younger sister born on May 23, 1943. Her name, Victoria, was given by my parents with the hope and prayers of the community that victory over the invaders would come soon.

When I was three years old, my perceptive mind started to wonder about what was happening around because everyone was very sad. Our parents tried their best to give us children the care needed. We just played quietly, sang carols at Christmas, made toys from scraps of paper, and drew our dreams on the ground using charcoals left over from bonfires.

I invite all book lovers to read the rest of my story, about the power of faith, my reflections on human existence, and the belief that we were created by One Loving God alone, no matter how we address Him.