My grandmother was the type they don’t make anymore…everything she cooked was fantastic, she always had a homemade dessert on hand, her house sparkled, and she hung out her laundry before 7 a.m. She never missed a birthday (and this with 9 kids, 28 grandkids, and countless great-grands). She married the boy she’d loved since she was ten, became a mother at 20, had six kids before her 30th birthday, and was married for 67 years before she died—and was crazy about my grandfather, especially in those last few years, when they knew their time was drawing to a close.
The day my daughter was born, my grandmother rushed to the hospital to see her first great-granddaughter. I put my baby in Gram’s arms and told her she had her first namesake. She always had a special bond with my daughter, but then, she had a special bond with most people she knew.
Gram smelled like Dove soap and cake, and nothing made her happier than a grandchild walking through her front door. She was soft and plump and pretty, and more days than not, she wore an apron. I’d take her out to dinner sometimes, and she loved when the server would mistake us for mother and daughter. She had a huge crush on Pierce Brosnan, and we saw all his Bond movies together.
I was at her side when she died, and I said the Hail Mary for her. I thanked her for the love she’d given me from the first day of my life to the last day of hers. How lucky I was to have had such a gift as my lovely Gram!
Happy Mother’s Day to all you moms, grandmothers, aunties, and godmothers out there!