Today was Gracie’s son’s birthday. He turned 63. She often refers to him as “the little one,” in comparison to his 70-year-old brother. I don’t know why it should surprise me that a 95-year-old woman should still be so utterly in love with her babies. A mother’s love has no end. In fact, it seems to just keep on growing.

In case her son decided to come by for a visit on his special day, Gracie had taken out five special gifts that he had given her over the years and had placed them on her kitchen counter. One item was a silver bracelet that her youngest had made at Boy Scout Camp over 50 years ago. She said, “This is special to me because it means that my little boy was thinking of me when he was away at camp.” As she told me this, her face lit up like a young girl in love. And that’s the thing — she was still that besotted girl. I’m sure when her eldest’s birthday comes around, her cheeks will blush in just the same way.

As I sat listening to Gracie reminisce about being in the hospital awaiting her second son’s arrival, it was as if I were talking with one of my girlfriends who just gave birth a year or two ago. The memories are as clear for her as they are for any one of the new moms I know. She remembers the other two women in the hospital who had babies on that day. And she recalls exactly how her eldest son reacted when he heard the news. 

Last week, Gracie and I stopped by to visit her 96-year-old neighbor. I’ve met her before. She can’t speak very clearly, so you just have to smile and nod when she talks to you. But there is one story that she tells with perfect clarity. This sweet, quite alone-in-the-world woman looks down at my three-year-old daughter, and she tells me that she had a daughter too, but she died of cancer. As she recounts this difficult story, her eyes are filled with as much grief and sadness as Gracie’s are brimming with love and celebration. 

In the end … the love that we have for our children may be the single greatest love of our lives.

In our youth-centered world, we often only recognize two different mothers – the young mom in the trenches who can barely come up for air and the grandmother with the grown children and their budding families. But what happens when those grandchildren grow up and move out and begin having kids of their own? Then we have something else altogether. I’ve never given much thought to the perspective of a great-grandmother. Watching your kids become grandparents …. while all the while, in your heart, they are still your precious babies, running around your ankles while you’re trying to put dinner on the table.

I was humbled today when I realized how many elderly women I have known, and yet, I have never fully appreciated the mothers that they continue to be … even though so many new titles and roles have been layered upon them. 

This afternoon, Gracie poured white grape juice in wine flutes to celebrate her baby’s birthday. When I left, I could tell that she was still holding out hope that he might stop by to share a birthday toast with her. I sure hope he did.