My mother stole from my grandmother who was raising her three children. We were 5, 4, and 1 years old when my mother decided she didn't want us. My biological parents were granted a divorce, and because my grandmother didn't want us in foster homes, she took us in to raise us at the age of 73. The judge asked her if she could provide a home for us, and she said she could. My biological parents were supposed to pay my grandmother a certain amount, but she never received anything. My grandmother wanted us to move from the city to the country, so we left Texas and moved to Arkansas. While she was getting things settled, she went to the bank to withdraw money from the savings accounts she had set up for each of us. There was nothing there. My mother had closed the accounts and taken all the money. This happened in the 1960s, and I assume that's why she was able to do it. I know that today she could never have closed them. My grandmother was hurt. All three of us were hurt. Even so, it was my mother who did the hurting. She never went to see the football games my brother played in, nor to hear the concerts of the band he played in. She was never able to hear the piano recitals I gave. She wasn't at my wedding, nor was she there when my two daughters were born. She never got to meet her granddaughters. All by her own choice. My grandmother was the one we loved and honored until the day she passed away. She lived to be 97, and losing her was the hardest day of my life. We had "Forever in our hearts" engraved on her headstone, and that's how we continue to feel. She was our angel. I wanted to attach a photo of us and my grandmother from the last time we were all together. She was in her early 90s and the three of us were adults. That was many years ago, but her teachings and love will last forever.