That fact came home to me the other day while I was going through a couple of boxes of photos. Most of them were my daughter's childhood, but a few strays sneaked in over the years. I was looking for some particular photos and noticed there just weren't many of my mom and daughter together. Then I remembered. Jessica was only ten when Mom passed away.
No wonder she doesn't remember her voice or a lot of other things about her nana.
Mom as a baby.
Mom, me and my sister when I was four. Betty was fifteen.
Mom holding my daughter. She was so proud of that baby.
When I went to the hospital we decided not to call her until we had some news. Finally,
eighteen hours later, the little one arrived. By then mom had figured it out and came to the hospital. When they wheeled me out I could see her through the windows and she was bursting with pride. I think the baby was in a nursery in between at that point, but I'm not sure.
I know she was at our house the first chance she got.
The first time we went out without our daughter was to a movie and mom babysat. I swear she couldn't wait for us to get out the door so she could have her all to herself.
Besides loving her grandkids to pieces, mom loved her garden (she could grow anything), her home, decorating, shopping, cooking and baking, and Jim Reeves and Nat King Cole.
She didn't like antiques ("Who'd want somebody else's junk."), or dirt in any form (unless perhaps it was in her garden), or cold weather.
So again I say, "Happy Birthday Mom."