My mother, Sandra, was an extraordinary woman who lived an extraordinary life. My grandmother was evacuated out of London during the Blitz and taken to Bradford on Avon, where she gave birth to my mom in a manor house that was converted to a makeshift maternity ward. As a child, my mother lived in Belfast, Berlin, the U.K., and Gibraltar. As a young adult, she lived in Bulgaria, then London, working at the famous Brown's Hotel and then at the foreign office. She met my father at a party in London, and after six dates, they were engaged. Once married, they began a lifelong adventure abroad, living in Madrid, Mexico City, Puerto Rico, Panama, Germany, Brazil, and finally, the United States. My parents were happily married for 46 years. My mother was an incredible corporate wife and stay-at-home mom. She loved Shakespeare and Keats and tennis. She made a killer paella and Shepherd's pie. Her love and support were unwavering, steadfast, and solid. She was tough. She endured breast cancer, my father's dementia, and passing 10 years ago. She was open-minded and progressive, accepting with nothing but love for grandkids who identified as trans and gay. My mother was simply the best.