The definition of mother.

Edna P. Newberry

April 25, 1915 -November 13, 1998

Some women are born to be mothers, and yet for many reasons circumstances prevent them from the opportunity to have their own.  I believe fate finds them a role to share the love they have to give.

My Aunt Edna was one of those women. She stepped into the role of mother when her sister died unexpectedly at the age of 20.  She embraced the role of grandmother (or second mother as my sister liked to tease her) to my sisters and I.

We even had a special word for her, Hant. It was reserved only for her "daughter" and her "granddaughters" to use. I've never met anyone else called by that, and that is how it should be, she was THAT SPECIAL.

She has been gone now almost 12 years, but the memories of her still linger. 

The smell of smoke from a fire reminds me of her house warming on a cool morning. 

Add the smell of coffee brewing, and I'm transported back in time to her kitchen on a Sunday morning. I even have a small dog that reminds me of her little chihuahuas Trouble and Shrimp. (Luckily, though, I never picked up the smokin' thing.)

I thank Hant everyday for the lessons about life and love she shared with my mother, my sisters and I. I know she continues her diligent watch over us from Heaven, seated at her comfy kitchen table.