Strangely, when I think about family photos taken on Mother's Day and recognising the mums in the family, I think of my Dad. We were at my older sister's house and we decided to line up the mums and kids by the trampoline for a pic. My Dad, who had alzheimer's and didn't really understand what was going on, kept trying to get in the photo. We kept escorting him away. The photo was taken without him and it turned out to be the last family gathering when he was with us at home. Of course most of the tribe of grandkids who gathered to celebrate mother's day today were either too young to remember that day or in the case of a couple not yet born. But they did all know this was the first mother's day in a long, long time that we'd all been in the same place. It was a day of a lot of eating, talking and games of road football. It was a celebration of mums and the tough gig of raising kids - and the beautiful kids that make it worthwhile. And as a double celebration there was a doughnut cake to mark the 11th birthday this week of the youngest member of the tribe. Connor wasn't around when that last photo was taken but his middle names Barry Michael will always be a link to the Granddad he never knew.