I had sweet potato pie for breakfast in memory of my Mamaw (who made the best ones ever) and Daddy (who loved sweet potato pie as much as me).
Mamaw died February 2000 and yesterday would have been her 100th birthday. Daddy died November 8, 2010 and tomorrow will be rough for me and my family. I miss them both so much.
Mamaw was the glue that held our family together. She knew everybody's secrets and never breathed a word to anyone. She taught me to bake biscuits from "scratch" and let me mess up her kitchen experimenting with recipes.
Daddy was strict and overprotective of his girls, but it was out of love. It took me a long time to realize that. He taught me to love creating, both the process and the end product. He did woodworking and I still love the smell of sawdust and lumber. I can walk through the lumber aisle in Lowe's and be transported to his shop. I still have the first piece of furniture he made for me and hope to pass it on to my oldest son.
Because of Dad, I can do basic troubleshooting on cars--except for changing a flat, which for some reason I never learned.
My gift to my children is to teach them the things my mamaw and my dad taught me. And I tell them where every lesson was learned. My dad even started writing a few months before he died. He said I inspired him to do so. They both may be gone from this earthly existence, but they're always in my heart. Memories, both good and bad, are a gift.