Mother's Day 2007I've written about my mother on here before -- and words are really failing me here. But this is my mother on her wedding day. I think she is younger than I am now:
In this photo, my mom is actively teaching me how to love the way she does: the right way. She hasn't stopped. And in return, I haven't stopped being grateful.
I went home this weekend to visit my mom and grandma ... my mom's mom. We took my grandparents out for ice cream, which holds special significance for me. It was perfect. The day was sunny and warm and my grandpa was feeling good, which had my grandma feeling great. Daro's a bit of a pistol, and she's not afraid to just touch somebody's motorcycle when she's in a good mood:
The ice cream parlor had sugar-free butter pecan ice cream, which thrilled my grandpa no end. My grandma tore up her sundae, too. Here's my mom and grandmother enjoying their ice cream:
It's more or less impossible to shop for my grandma. She's got her husband and kids that happily take care of them both -- no replacing that. But there's a million reason her kids and grandkids want to take care of her, and I thought I'd share one of mine.
In 1984, I made the severe mistake of reading the Creepshow comic book, written by Stephen King and illustrated by horror master Bernie Wrightson -- to my fragile little mind, the most compelling and terrifying stack of paper and staples ever created. Now I love that stuff, but at that time, bedtime was freaking CANCELLED until further notice. My grandmother, in her wisdom, slept in my room every night for a week until I could settle down, even though she knew I knew I had brought that terror on myself.
Love, real love, is made of a million tiny kindnesses that the giver forgets immediately and the recipient always remembers. I wrote down my memory of that event for my grandma and gave it to her for Mothers' Day -- you can see it here if you want:
There's no real conclusion, no big thought to wrap this up. Just love and gratitude, which anyone know are way too big for a tight closing sentence.