|Winnifred (Winnie) Trustlove Dale Latimer
March 28, 1911 – April 21, 1997
Mother’s Day weekend is upon us, and I’ve given just enough thought to it to have sent out cards to some of the older women who have nurtured me over the years. What I’d give to cook dinner for my mother this weekend. But she’s been gone seventeen years, ample time for me to grow accustomed to a different kind of Mother’s Day.
I’m not sad, just remembering the woman who loved me deeply and sacrificed to make my life easier than hers. Somehow she always knew just what to say to make me feel better or to pull me up short when I was out of line.
Unselfish to a fault—she had trouble receiving compliments or gifts. Sometimes you just had to force them on her. Today I wish I could shower her with presents and tell her one more time how blessed I am to be her daughter. (Yes, present tense. I’ll always be her blessed daughter.)