Monday, January 14, 2008
Her name was Azat. It means freedom in Armenian. She escaped from Turkey with her family during the Armenian genocide. She spoke 5 languages and was a very hard working woman. Her profession was being a dressmaker (an amazingly talented one) and of course, a mother - my mother. She was my role model. This is not the first time I have written openly about her. In fashion school, I used her as a model for a term paper about a fashion designer. Today is her birthday or would have been. I think of her every day. After she died, I found that paper I wrote among her belongings. Last month, my daughter did something that made me realize how much her grandmother meant to her. Not that I am fond of tattoos, but what can I say. I love my daughter too.