I have so many, it's hard to pick one.  I guess I'll have to say the time when I was about six years old, and I walked home from school one blustery autumn afternoon, to find my mother had hot chocolate waiting for me.  That was the only time that happened, and that is why I still remember it.  I remember how something would tickle her fancy, and she would laugh for five minutes, getting everyone in the room to laugh with her, even though we didn't know what the joke was.  I can remember her helping me in my first attempts at writing, consoling me the first time I got dumped, and telling me why I was here.  Because of love.  I was a high risk pregnancy, and she always told me how she fought to keep me, and how I fought to live.  She gave me courage and strength, and endless love.  My son will know her through the stories I tell him.  I will say the same thing to him my mom would say to me when looking at a picture of her mother:  She was a great lady.