This is a picture of my grandmother Sbaraglia (my mother's mom), her brother, and her sister, Aunt Daisy.
I come from a large family, if you include siblings, cousins and second cousins, Aunts, Uncles, and now later in my life children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and one husband and his family, which isn't so small either.
Let me give hommage to my Aunt Daisy. I didn't really know her very well, and I have but three pictures of her. Aunt Daisy suffered a stroke shortly after I was born and it wasn't until Aunt Annie moved to Springfield, PA, that I was able to meet her and talk to her. When mom went to see Aunt Daisy, I was usually went along with her.
Aunt Daisy reminded me of my own mother. She even looked like my mother. But why shouldn't she? She was, after all, my mother's sister. She was soft-spoken, cheerful, treated me more like a grown child, instead of the young child I was.
When she died, I didn't attend her funeral. Mom and dad left me home with my siblings. I think I got to know her better because her children, the seven that I knew. They inherited not just her looks, but her attitudes. They, the cousins, were all cheerful and didn't treat me like a child, even though all but David and Betty were adults when I was born.