There aren’t enough eloquent expressions in the vocabularies of the world to define a mother, to create in words the way I feel about my Mom. She is every piece of my childhood and my womanhood, in flickering lights across a lifetime that shine with unconditional love, fierce support and relentless nurturing. My brothers and I watched her care for every elderly member of her family, care for her own children, adore her mother who lived around the corner (our other keeper), her animals, love my Dad, and now delight in her grandchildren as Mimi, her artistic soul feeding our hearts, minds and ambitions with the fiery love of her selfless Irish/Italian genetic code of gold. She runs as Mrs. Walker, Johnny Walker that is, to those who love her best, at all parties, happy hours and casual conversations that call for finer things, which is, all times. She’s taught me how it feels to be loved and guarded as a daughter, a woman and a mother. She’s known every version of me and despite it, still shows me how to be truly, eloquently, whole heartedly loved. She’s my best friend since the day I saw her in our hospital room after I put her through hell to enter the world. God chose me to be yours, Mom, and then it all made sense. No one else could have tolerated or loved me like you. I love you, whole heart, my divine Mom.
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