My 8-year-old son gazed at a dusty bookshelf, impressed by what he saw and inspired by what his grandmother had accomplished.
“Wow, Grandma sure has a lot of tennis trophies,” he said during a visit to my childhood home earlier this year. “I want to win more trophies than Grandma someday.”
“Me too,” I replied.
Last summer, I watched my Mom beat my son in a tiebreaker at the local high school tennis courts where I grew up. Days later, she was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
My Mom passed away last month.
But our shared family tennis memories—like the trophy-fueled spark of inspiration my Mom left for her grandson—will continue.