Mother's Been Gone 4 Years This Thanksgiving Week.

This is my mother and I. She was probably about 27 or 28 and I was 7 or 8. We were both young.

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Family dinners: My mother created the best! She learned to become a great cook and baker as an adult.

She grew up not being allowed in the kitchen, the 3rd daughter of older parents, she was a surprise baby, her mother thought she done having children and in your 40's in the 1930's you were pretty safe to think that, my mother was the exception.

Born in 1933, spending most of her growing up years during World War II, 15 miles south of London.

Her childhood held memories that no child should ever have to have and many beloved memories of her parents patience with her and their protection. She loved sharing memories of her father's victory garden and rabbits, his humor and kindness. Her mother's sternness. She regretted causing her parents heartache during her teenage years. Despite being raised during a war, she had a wonderful sense of humor, loved freedom, was very patriotic as an American who earned her citizenship and never forgot her mother country, England where most of her family remained.

She tried hard and dedicated her life to her family and church, always striving to create traditions that would hold her family together in her new country, so far from her family in England.

We are coming up on 4 years this Thanksgiving week, without her wonderful meals, especially during the holidays. Oh, we try to replicate her delicious pies, English potatoes and gravy, but she still holds the honor of being our favorite cook and baker. She always gave her Aunt Minn credit for teaching her how to make perfect flaky pie crust. Never had a recipe, just went by feel, first putting flour and salt in a bowl, then Crisco, and slowly adding just the right amount of water until it felt perfect, never overworking the dough, just hand kneading it a little so as to not make it tough.

She said some people have a chicken gene, causing them to love chickens. She had the gene and loved her chicken flock. I inherited the gene.

I am thankful for the years I had her as my mother here on the earth. I miss her. I miss going to her home and feeling like a daughter again, no matter how old I was. I miss her English accent that everybody loved and I couldn't discern because she just sounded like my mother, that's what she always sounded like. However, I could hear her beautiful accent when she left a message on the answering machine or in a home movie, and I loved it too.