Remembering My Grandma, Marie Ingalls

My Grandma, Marie Ingalls, was born on December 13th, 1903, and every year when this date comes around, I find myself thinking about the life she lived, the strength she carried, and the quiet but unmistakable way she shaped our family.

Her story began in what must have seemed like a hopeful year for her parents, Will and Flora Belle, who had married in January of that same year. Marie was their only child, and while her arrival should have marked the beginning of a joyful new chapter, life quickly became complicated. Shortly after giving birth, Flora Belle became seriously ill. It was decided that both she and baby Marie would go to live with Flora Belle’s parents so she could receive the care she needed and little Marie could be looked after properly.

That arrangement, born out of necessity, would shape the rest of Grandma’s childhood.

Marie would remain with her grandparents throughout her early years, and even after her mother passed away when Grandma was only nine years old, that home continued to be the center of her world. Losing a mother so young is something no child should have to endure, and yet that kind of hardship was all too common in those days. It is one of the many reminders of how much earlier generations quietly carried on without fanfare.

And yet, even in those hard beginnings, there are hints that Grandma may have found a little joy and perhaps even a little indulgence in her early life. I can’t say for certain, but from what I have seen and from some of the photos that have surfaced over the years, it certainly appears she may have been just a little spoiled as a girl. And judging by those same photos, I would say she also had a touch of style about her. In today’s world, we might say she had a bit of a fashionista streak in her.

Family history always has a way of surprising us, and I recently received some photos that suggest Grandma may have first begun dating one of Grandpa’s brothers before eventually beginning a relationship with the man who would become my grandfather. Life has a funny way of finding its path, and in the end, she married my Grandpa on October 3, 1922.

Together they built a life and a family.

Grandma and Grandpa would go on to have seven children, though heartbreak touched their family as one of those children did not live to adulthood. Like so many women of her generation, Grandma gave birth to all of her children at home. There were no hospitals involved, no modern conveniences, and certainly no easy road through motherhood. She raised her family in a world that demanded resilience, resourcefulness, and a kind of toughness that often went unnoticed because it was simply expected.

And Grandma had that toughness.

She was fiercely protective of her children, and that protectiveness did not fade as they grew older and began finding lives and partners of their own. In fact, if anything, it may have intensified. Family stories tell us she was not especially fond of my mother when she and my dad first began dating, and she was not shy about making that known. Grandma was not one to keep her opinions to herself. But as time passed, and as families so often do, hearts softened. She came to love my mother, and that, too, became part of the family story.

That was one of Grandma’s defining traits, she was strong in her convictions, but there was love underneath it all.

Some of my fondest memories of Grandma are tied to the holidays, when she would come stay with our family for several days. Those visits are among the moments I treasure most. There was something special about having her in the house. She brought with her a presence that changed the atmosphere of a room the moment she entered it.

At the table, she always sat at the head, as though there had never been any question that was where she belonged. And somehow, that felt exactly right. All of us would gather around, talking about everything and nothing, sharing stories, laughing, filling the hours in the way families do when they are simply enjoying being together. Looking back now, I realize those ordinary moments were never ordinary at all. They were the kinds of memories that settle into your heart and stay there for life.

And Grandma enjoyed those times, too. You could see it in the way she sat with us, listened, smiled, and simply took part in the comfort of family being together.

So much can be said about Grandma Marie, and honestly, one post could never fully do her justice. People like her leave behind far more than dates and facts. They leave behind impressions, lessons, habits, traditions, stories, and a kind of emotional footprint that never really disappears.

She stood just shy of five feet tall, but her presence was at least ten feet tall.

She was one of those people who seemed larger than life not because of noise or spectacle, but because of the force of who she was. Strong. Protective. Memorable. Loving in her own way. Unforgettable.

I will never forget the day I received the call that she had left this world. Some losses never fully fade, no matter how many years pass. They simply become part of who we are.

Grandma will forever be missed, forever remembered, and forever loved.

Love you, Grandma.

You will find additional photo and details about Granda Marie Ingalls on my facebook page, R. Lee Ingalls or my Instagram page ingallsontheprairie.