My own Mom passed away in 1989, at age 61. It seems so long ago- I have almost lived as many years without her now as I had with her. Of course I think of her every day, especially today, and, as I did when she was alive, I hope she only knows about the good things I have done :-) I realized soon after she died that the hardest loss is that unwavering love. For most of us, no matter what we do, who we love, who we marry - no one will ever love us as much as our mother does. I miss that and am thankful I was worshipped as long as I was, even though I did not realize it at the time!

 She was funny, fun, loved to go anywhere and do anything. She had 8 children and lost her two oldest sons, one at age 3 and one at 32, pain she carried with her constantly. She never tried to bury that pain or hide it from us, and it just made us know all the more how much we were also loved. The rest of us grew up knowing how fleeting life can be - she never really tried to to each us anything about that, but it was in her example of keeping on no matter what and enjoying our loved ones whenever possible.

I was a busy beaver yesterday hosting not just my dear old moms but a grand total of 4 moms for a Mothers Day BBQ extravaganza...skirt steaks, shrimp skewers, and chicken breasts with mickeys and veggies.

There's no mistaking whose child that is in your photos, because your son looks every bit his mother's boy; the resemblance is quite remarkable. (The eyes and smiles in particular give you both away.)

Those photos serve to remind us of how very quickly our children do grow up, even as there were undoubtedly those fleeting moments in times past when it seemed like it would be forever before they finally did.

Then, almost before we've fully realized it, they've fledged and flown from our nests on their own power and volition, and inevitably, our roles and relationships with them evolve accordingly from provider, protector and nurturer to mentor, friend and equal.

But no matter how many the years are that pass subsequently, they're still our babies. And while we proudly watch them -- sometimes with no small amounts of trepidation -- as they seek and find their own pathways in this world, we know that within each of us as parents, there is an intangible but very real part of them, that little child who will always remain ours, exclusively.

Went back to Home Goods today finish my consumer duty re sprucing up this dump.  That creepy Easter Island 6-ft tall stone head statue still there, retailing for a mere $999.  A little too spooky for folks to have indoors probably.  And too expensive to keep outdoors.