Years ago when my mom died, my grand-daughter Kallie was five years old. A few days after the funeral, she and I were sitting on the couch watching television. I started to cry.

“What’s wrong, Granny,” she asked with great concern.

“Nothing, Honey,” I sniffled. “I just miss my mom. I used to talk to her every day, and now I can’t any more. Sometimes it makes me sad. I miss her so much my heart hurts.”

She wrapped both her arms around my neck and pulled me to her. She held my face against her shoulder like I was a doll and patted my back.

With deep compassion, she said softly, “I will be your Kid-Mom, Granny. You can talk to me anytime as long as you live.”

And she is. And I do.

And every Mother’s Day, my Kid-Mom gets a gift.

She has the most loving heart I can imagine.

Happy Mother’s Day, Kallie.

I love you.