My mother died on June 1, 2008. I think about her every single day. I remember her stories of growing up. Our family of five that turned into in-laws, out-laws, grandkids, great-grandkids. I remember her, flaws and all, and understand her and forgive her and celebrate her and miss her. And I love her.
I think what she loved most, from the beginning of her life until its end, was babies. Any baby would make her smile, and the babies in our family were her greatest joy. She understood far more about all of our natures than we sometimes understood ourselves. And she loved us, flaws and all, and forgave us and celebrated us. Regardless of how much she might scold us, she was fiercely loyal to us. That is a trait I try to emulate when it comes to family. I am so grateful for every member of the generations of our family that she and my father began when they fell in love.
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