When I talk with men about their childhood and who gave them truckloads of love I hear the same name over and over – “grandmother”.

Mom & Dad alternate between “good cop” and “bad cop” as they guide and discipline their children, grandmothers just love them.

In our case it was our boys’ “Nana”, their mother’s mother.

She was the one who came and stayed with us the first two weeks our boys were home from the hospital.

She was the one you could count on to be there for their birthday parties.

She was the one who volunteered to keep them at her house for several weeks during the summer – taking them to the swimming pool, letting them help her in her garden, and enjoying the freedom of exploring her vast back yard there in the country.

She was stern when she needed to be.

She panicked when they decided to play hide-and-seek with her without telling her.

She loved them with a love deeper than the ocean, vaster than universe and as constant as the burning of the son.

Our sons make their pilgrimage to see her several times each year, paying homage to the one who bathed them with her love.

Thank you, Nana!


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