Planting seeds, nurturing them, and watching them grow since 1939. Grandmother, mother, wife, lover of dogs, cats, hummingbirds, and children. Expert at making the prettiest flowers. You watched two of your most precious, most nurtured and hoped for, most wanted creations, my aunt and uncle, wither and fade before their time. One, before she could plant her own seeds; one, as he entered the world. All your work and prayers and hope could not keep it from happening. And it's not fair.
But there is still joy. One, just one, survived the world, and thrived, and planted another seed, and it thrived. And you're not alone. And you are loved and now we nurture you. You're beautiful and you give love and life and never want me to do the dishes because you'll get them later when you've rested your farm-worn, arthritic hands (I do them when you're not looking). So thank you for your heart, passed down, I hope, to my heart. Thank you for your hope and love and gift of life. I love you, Mema.