I am blessed- blessed in ways few people are, in that I had two incredible parents.

My father, God keep him, was a saint. a SAINT. I’ll blog on that someday. He died when I was 27. I miss him every single day.

My mom, as well, wears a halo. She jokes about it, but it’s there.

Mom is the toughest, gentlest, kindest, nicest, most in your face mom you could imagine. Give my mom absolute power, give her five days, the conflict in the middle east would be OVER. A Mom utimatum is the toughest kind, and mom always meant business; there were consequences to your actions, and you learned that early. Mom sat by her father and watched him die slowly, over the course of several weeks, in horrid pain, and though he abandoned HER as a child, she never once walked away from what she felt was her responsibility to him, even though a weaker person would have.

When my best friend’s father died, and she found him, dead for a couple of days, she matter-of factly picked up the phone and made some calls, called ME at my friend’s house and had me tell him (that conversation, I wish I never had to have) she didn’t freak out, she didn’t go crazy, she just did as she needed to do and moved on.

Last week, while the wife was away and even I had to leave for a few days, she sat with my daughter, got her to school, etc. The Daughter LOVES gramma, and rightfully so, but Gramma found her sitting on the front steps, crying, because she missed mommy and daddy.

Mom didn’t tell me this till I returned home. She knew not to, she knew it would tear me up. She DID take the daughter and spend time with her, made her have so much fun she forgot all about her sadnes till mommy and daddy returned, a skill only seasoned moms have.

I don’t know if i can ever show my mom how much I love her. How much I appreciate all she does for me, for my family. But if I fail, it will NOT be because I didn’t try.