This is one of my favorite pictures of her. This was shortly before the first stroke, nearly 10 years ago, one of a series that began slowly, painfully taking her from us.
There were good days and bad - good years and bad. Sometimes a conversation was all but impossible, then others she would make you laugh with her wit. The latter was more recent, and I am so, so thankful for that.
The past couple of years were good. She was happy, and able to travel (oh how she traveled!) and able to visit her great-grand-daughter in Long Beach, CA just a couple of weeks ago as well as see Sam three times in his short life. He won’t remember her, how he smiled at her, how she smiled back. But I know her love for him will always be a part of him, as it will be a part of all of us.
I was lucky enough to have two amazing grandmothers, both named Margaret, both who lived until 91 years old. Last night, a final aneurism took Margaret Lucille Hodges Gibson. She was happy. She was not alone. She was loved.
When a financial institution asks me my “mother’s maiden name” as a security question. Because it’s assumed that I have at least one and no more than one mother in my life AND that she married AND that she gave up her own name AND that that part of her identity was erased enough from my public history so as to be a password to access my private information.
For real though.
Guys - we have to get a passport for Sam, meaning we need a photo on a white background with both ears showing, his chin showing, his mouth closed, and looking at the camera. For a newborn! Needless to say, he didn’t really feel like cooperating.