Grandma Potter has passed over to be with my ancestors now. I feel so sad that I can not be there to pay my final respects in Wisconsin. Tonight I'll sing her, The Rose, her favorite song, out to the winter night sky where she can hear it and feel it...Just remember, in the winter far beneath the bitter snows..lies the seed, that with the suns' love, in the spring, becomes the rose...I love you Gramma!