to think that this coming Sunday will mark the 13th year since my mother's passing. Can it have been that long already? Amazing.
She was such a wonderful woman and I miss her very much. One of the sadnesses of being born to a woman of 43 and a man of 40 is that you have every chance of growing up without your parents. My father was gone when I was but 19. My mother lasted a bit longer, but Alzheimer's took her from us long before death did.
She was a tease, a true introvert (she really disliked public gatherings, probably more than I do!), a cross-word puzzle whiz and she loved to do jigsaw puzzles too. She read and delighted in poetry. She was crippled from the age of three by polio and taught us by her silent suffering that we were not to complain of pain or ask for sympathy. She loved her family with a great devotion and she gave us the gift of love - unconditional and constant.
I think with shame of the things we did to her. I remember chasing around Aunt Emma's with the snake George and I killed. She was terrified of them, and she could barely hobble at the best of times, but we made her move with that poor garter snake we killed down in Buzzard's Roost.
Thirteen years. And in that time my children have grown up and known only one grandmother. I wish they could have known the other too. She loved them as babies, and she would have loved them adults. Dearest Mom, God grant you the joy of His presence, the peace of His love!