The Love of My Mother

The Love of My Mother

An ‘Aggressive Love for Life’ Regardless of Life’s Challenges

I grew up in a small town in the Deep South. I never knew my biological dad. I never met my birth grandfather. I never learned his name. I never saw his grave. Never knew he was my grandfather. His “blood” didn’t “run” in my veins. It didn’t really even make a “jolt” in my DNA. I don’t have a “biological” connection to him at all. But what I do have is what you would call love.

For many years, while my mother was in the hospital, my father would talk to me about him every time he came to see me. And he would tell me how much he loved, cared for, and would be committed to this beautiful woman that he made a wonderful mother and that he would love and nurture for the rest of his life. And it would be “the last thing he ever would do” if he didn’t have her. I think as a child, that is what he wanted me to understand. He wanted me to understand that he loved and would do anything, even “sacrifice” his life, in my mother’s honor. There would be “no exceptions” in the decision he made.

And he would tell me just that. And as the years went by, his words, although sometimes he would need to be reminded, would continue to ring true. And I would find it easier to accept his logic than I might have before.

His logic is what makes me love this man. Because despite the fact that I never knew him nor met his family members, I can accept “the love” for my mother. Even though I know there were “no exceptions” not to be made, love is still love after all.

His love and devotion will live on in

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