A tribute to Grandma June Bug

A Tribute to My Grandma June Bug

From the time I was very little, I was completely enamored with my grandma June Bug. She was the pillar of our very large family. She raised seven children on her own, and over the years our family continued to grow with grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and so many memories tied back to her.

She was the strongest woman I knew. No matter how difficult life became or how tight money was, she always found a way to make things work. Whether it was somehow finding the money to buy a pair of boots for one of her daughters or dealing with kids who once painted her car with house paint, she still managed to laugh and keep moving forward.

What I remember most are the small moments.

Late at night, she would make me goulash while we sat in the kitchen talking. She adored her dogs and treated them like family. She called the microwave “the radar,” and I can still laugh remembering the time she cooked frozen broccoli without taking it out of the box first, leaving a mess exploded all over the inside of the microwave.

Her Christmas parties were magical to me as a kid. They were always held in the basement of her house — and I thought having a full kitchen downstairs was the coolest thing ever. Looking back now, I realize she was the glue that held all of us together.

More than anything, she taught me to be unapologetically myself. She never cared much about judgmental people or outside opinions, and she taught that lesson not just through words, but through the way she lived her life. She had a bold spirit, an unforgettable laugh, and a way of making everyone around her feel welcome.

She also had her own little sayings that stayed with me throughout my life. When things felt difficult, she would simply say, “Have faith,” or tell me to “dust your brain” whenever I was overthinking something.

One of my favorite memories was when she let me “color” her hair when I was 13 years old. I remember thinking it turned out terrible, but she smiled and told me she loved it anyway.

Before she passed, she used to tell me, “If you ever find a penny in your shoe, just know I’m thinking about you.”

To this day, every once in a while, I still find pennies in my shoes. And every single time, I smile because somewhere deep down, I know it’s her way of reminding me she’s still around.

We lost her when I was just four days shy of turning 16 years old. It was the first time I ever lost someone who truly meant the world to me.

I still carry her lessons, her laughter, and her love with me every day.

Love you always, Grandma June Bug.