Before any bestselling book outlined the five love languages – words of affirmation, quality time, gift giving, acts of service, and physical touch – my grandmother taught them to me. She raised me and my older sister after our parents’ failures proved insurmountable.

Sometimes she called me “bighead” as a term of endearment and shook her head at my silliness. We spent time together watching reruns of some of her old favorites like “The Waltons,” “The Andy Griffith Show,” and “Leave It to Beaver.”

She doted on me via gifts – using minimal wages as a custodial engineer for the Philadelphia School District – so much so that when I saw a copy of her W-2 when applying for college financial aid, I felt terrible guilt for wanting so much over the years. I remember my first bike, first video game, and first stereo, all fruits of my grandmother’s labor.

Thank God for every time she nursed me back to good health with homemade soup or another home remedy. As a result, I didn’t miss too much time outside playing. And regarding physical touch: She didn’t initiate hugs or kisses, but she also didn’t turn me away when I did. She didn’t spare the rod when it came to discipline, because it was imperative to her that I respect people and develop good character that would travel through life with me long after she was gone.

My grandma died in March. This will be my first Mother’s Day without her. The best way that I can honor her life is to love: Love people when I have a headache and when I’m exhausted, when I’m disappointed with life and when others have given me more reasons to forgive them than to celebrate them. She loved me in spite of things like this, as I am sure every mother or grandmother does, and that to me seems like the ultimate directive that she would want for my life.

How does a mother figure in your own life express love? This Mother’s Day, I invite you to consider the difference that her love has made for you.