Kathie Lee Gifford recently celebrated her grandson’s birthday.
Gifford’s grandson once dressed up as his late grandfather.
Gifford’s son and his partner are in a happy relationship.
Kathie Lee Gifford is best known as a co-host on “Today” on NBC. She has been a staple on the network for many years, and fans have become acquainted with her family as she often talks and posts about them.
Most recently, Gifford shared the news that her grandson had celebrated his birthday. Fans and friends alike took to the comments section of her post to wish the young man a happy birthday and express how much they loved the family.
Gifford shared a photo of her grandson strapped into his car seat, beaming at the camera, and wished him a happy birthday before saying::
“So grateful to God for the gift of Frankie.”
Gifford’s grandson is named after her late husband, Frank Gifford, who passed away in 2015. Many fans mentioned they could see Frankie’s grandfather in the child, while others thought he looked more like his father, Cody.
Other fans wished little Frankie a happy birthday, while others talked about how cute the tot was. Some people thought Frankie looked like his mom, but most saw a strong resemblance to his father and grandfather.
One fan said that he was clearly doing his namesake justice and they knew Frank would have been proud. Another called him his “father’s twin” while others called him “adorable.” An adoring commenter said Frankie was “like his Grandpa and daddy.”
Frankie Dressed Up As “Big Frank”
In keeping with the sentiment that little Frankie looks so much like his late grandfather, Gifford’s daughter-in-law, Erika, shared a sweet comparison photo of the pair in January this year. The first photo showed Frank Gifford as a young man, and the following picture showed Frankie dressed in an almost identical outfit.
Erika called Frank Gifford “Big Frank” and her son “Little Frankie” before saying they were proud of Frank’s previous NFL team, the New York Giants. Frank holds a football in the first photo, while in the second, Frankie chews on a plush toy version. Fans were charmed by the pictures.
Some once again commented on how alike the pair were, while other fans thought the comparison photos were “the cutest.” Gifford herself commented on the snaps saying how adorable the comparison was.
Fans mentioned that Frank, Cody, and baby Frankie all looked very much alike. Some fans thought that Frank would have loved to meet his grandson and said they were three generations of lookalikes in the family.
Others simply said baby Frankie looked “so much like his Grandpa” as others again talked about how proud Frank would have been of the tiny tot.
Who Is Gifford’s Daughter-In-Law and Her Son’s Long-Term Love?
Gifford shares a close relationship with Cody’s wife, Erika, and when he proposed in 2019, Gifford shared her joy that her son had found the love of his life and was set to tie the knot with her.
Shortly after the proposal, Gifford took to Instagram to share a photo of her son and then-soon-to-be daughter-in-law kissing as Erika held up a bejeweled left hand. Many people sent messages of congratulations on the post.
Cody’s sister, Cassidy, also shared the news of her brother’s engagement on Instagram, saying how happy she was for the pair and that she was excited to welcome Erika into the family as her sister.
Fans commented on the engagement posts and said Frank would have been proud of his son. A year later, Cody and Erika caused mass excitement again on their September wedding day.
Gifford again used Instagram as her news platform, sharing that her son and daughter-in-law exchanged vows on Labor Day weekend. She featured a photo of the bride and groom walking and holding hands as they gazed into one another’s eyes. The caption read:
“God gave us a glorious day to celebrate this glorious couple. So grateful.”
Before Erika and Cody got engaged, they had been together since 2013, and Gifford was more than ready to welcome Erika into the family officially. Erika shared that although 2020 had been a challenging year for many, their wedding was a silver lining in a dark cloud.
Erika shared that only their closest family and friends had been in attendance, and they had taken all the necessary precautions to make it “the most blessed and perfect day of [their] lives.” However, the wedding had its share of hiccups.
Erika had a personalized veil, but the word “the” was misspelled as “The.” She joked it was to be expected from a year like 2020. Gifford commented that it was a testament to their love that they didn’t let slight inconveniences ruin the day.
Cody and Erika welcomed their son into the world two years after they tied the knot. When naming his son, Cody knew he wanted to honor his father and name his baby after him.
Cody and Erika named their son Frank Michael Gifford, and when Gifford found out, she admitted:
“I was surprised Cody named him after his dad because Cody knew what it was like to grow up in the shadow of a great man. But I guess he’s never gotten over, really, and he never will, the loss of his dad at an early age, and he was his hero, and he still is.”
Gifford shared that when she got the news that her son was expecting a baby, she told him that his father would be so happy with all the positive things happening in their lives and that he was smiling down on them.
Little Frankie’s name does not only honor his late grandfather but also a family member on Erika’s side. Frankie’s middle name, Michael, is a tribute to Erika’s uncle, who passed shortly before the little tike was born.
Frankie was born three weeks premature, but he and his mother were healthy following the birth, and he has now grown into a bouncing, happy, and healthy one-year-old who is adored by his family and his grandmother’s fans worldwide.
A Secret Santa Gift Unlocked the Mystery of My Mother’s Disappearance — Story of the Day
Two years after my mother vanished without a trace, I unwrapped a Secret Santa gift and froze. Inside was her necklace—a piece she’d never part with. I needed to find out who my Secret Santa was and where he had found that treasure.
The office was alive with holiday cheer. Strings of twinkling lights draped across cubicles, and a faint scent of cinnamon lingered in the air. Around me, colleagues laughed and exchanged Secret Santa gifts. I tried to smile but couldn’t shake the emptiness that had settled in my chest.
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For two years, the holidays had been hollow. My mother had vanished without a trace, walking out the door one cold morning and never returning. No note, no goodbye.
The police called it a voluntary disappearance. I called it impossible. Mom would never leave me willingly, not without a reason.
“Your turn, Sophie!” Jenna’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
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She stood beside me, clutching her mug of hot chocolate, her cheeks pink from excitement or maybe a marshmallow overdose.
I stepped forward. The attention made my skin prickle, but I reached for the small, gold-wrapped box on the table. My fingers worked quickly, untying the ribbon and peeling back the paper.
I wasn’t expecting much. Maybe a candle or a coffee mug with a cheesy slogan. But the moment I opened the box, the world seemed to tilt.
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Inside lay a necklace. HER necklace.
The delicate silver chain glinted under the office lights, and the aquamarine pendant shimmered like a tiny ocean. My breath caught as I turned it over.
There it was. “AMELIA,” etched into the back. My hands trembled.
“Sophie? You okay?” Jenna whispered to me.
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“I’m fine. It’s just… this necklace. It belonged to my mom.”
“Oh, wow! That’s a coincidence,” she said, leaning in for a better look. “It’s gorgeous.”
Coincidence? No. It can’t be. How did this end up here? Who had given it to me?
For the first time in two years, I had a tiny, fragile thread to follow. And I wasn’t letting it go.
***
The next morning, I walked into the office with the necklace tucked safely in my pocket. My mind buzzed with questions, but one stood out: “Who was my Secret Santa?”
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By mid-morning, I couldn’t hold back any longer. As a group of colleagues gathered around the coffee machine, I approached cautiously.
“Hey, does anyone know who might’ve been my Secret Santa?”
Jenna, always the cheerful one, piped up first. “Secret Santa is supposed to be anonymous, Sophie. That’s the fun of it!”
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“I know, but…” I hesitated, pulling the necklace out of my pocket and letting it dangle from my fingers. “This is my mother’s necklace. She’s been missing for two years, and… well, it’s the first clue I’ve had.”
The room fell silent. Even Jenna didn’t seem to know what to say. Then, from across the room, Margaret’s voice rang out, sharp as ever.
“Who else could it be?” She rolled her eyes, walking toward us. “Thomas, obviously. He’s the only one around here who’d buy something from a flea market and call it a gift.”
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I blinked, surprised by her bluntness. Margaret had been after Thomas for months, dropping not-so-subtle hints and invitations to dinner until, finally, he gave in and agreed to go out with her. So, she guarded him like a hawk, as if every interaction he had was a potential threat to their fragile new relationship.
“Thomas?” I turned to look at him, standing awkwardly behind Margaret.
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“Uh, yeah,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought it was pretty and…”
Margaret smirked. “Exactly. Typical Thomas.”
I ignored her tone, focusing instead on him. “Where did you get it? Do you remember the seller?”
“Yeah, it was a stall at the flea market downtown. I can show you where. If you want.”
“No, you can’t,” Margaret interjected, placing a hand on his arm. “You have work to finish, Thomas. Remember the reports? Or do you want to stay late again?”
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Her voice dripped with jealousy. The tension between them made me squirm.
“It’s fine,” I said quickly, not wanting to cause a scene. “I’ll check it out myself. Thanks anyway, Thomas.”
Frustration bubbled inside me as I left the office. Margaret’s possessiveness was maddening, but I didn’t have time to dwell on it. I headed straight to the flea market, determined to find the seller.
***
The market was overwhelming, with its endless stalls and the chatter of bargaining voices. It took over an hour, but I finally found the vendor. When I showed him the necklace, his face lit up in recognition.
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“I remember this piece,” he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “That aquamarine is rare. It cost a fortune! I bought it from a woman outside a small shop in another town. She seemed… troubled.”
My heart raced. “Do you remember the shop?”
He scribbled down an address on a scrap of paper and handed it to me. “Here you go, miss.”
I glanced at the paper and frowned. “Wait… this is in another state?”
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The man nodded. “Oh, yes. It’s a small shop just over the border. Quite the journey.”
I sighed. “Great. Just my luck.”
Armed with the address, I tried booking a train and found out they were all full. As I stood there, weighing my options, a familiar voice called out behind me.
“Need a ride?”
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I turned to see Thomas, slightly out of breath but smiling. “Margaret wasn’t thrilled, but I couldn’t let you do this alone.”
“Thomas! I need to get to another state by evening. But it’s Christmas Eve. Margaret is already…”
He cut me off with a shrug and a grin. “Margaret will get over it. Besides, this seems more important.”
For a brief moment, we were driving in silence. The thought of finding my mother kept my nerves buzzing like static. In a few hours, we pulled into a dimly lit station.
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Thomas jumped out to pay while I stretched, feeling the chill of the evening air. A few minutes later, he returned, his face pale.
“I’ve got bad news,” he muttered, holding his card up. “It’s declined. Again.”
I stared at him. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s Margaret’s doing. She froze my account. I’d bet my last dollar on it.”
I groaned, pulling out my wallet. “I’ve got fifty bucks, but that’s not enough to fill the tank and get us there.”
For a moment, we stood in silence.
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“Need a hand?” a deep voice called out.
We turned to see a truck driver stepping out of his rig. He was a burly man with kind eyes and a worn Santa hat perched on his head.
“We’re trying to get to the next town,” I explained. “We’re almost out of gas, and… well, we’re stuck.”
He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Tell you what. I’m heading that way myself. Got room in the cab if you don’t mind hitching a ride.”
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Thomas and I exchanged a quick glance. “We’d really appreciate it.”
“Hop in,” he said with a nod, gesturing toward the passenger door.
The ride was bumpy but surprisingly comfortable. The truck driver, who introduced himself as Joe, chatted with us about Christmas, his family, and the long hours he’d been pulling on the road. His kindness was a balm to my frayed nerves. When we arrived at the town, the shop’s door was locked, and a sign on the window read:
“Sorry, We’re Closed.”
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“Now what?” I whispered, the weight of the journey threatening to crush me.
Before Thomas could respond, the hum of a taxi interrupted us. The car stopped abruptly and out stepped Margaret, her cheeks flushed with anger.
“You’ve got some nerve,” she snapped, marching toward Thomas. “Tracking you wasn’t easy, you know. And all for her?” She pointed at me with disdain.
“Margaret, it’s not what you think,” Thomas began, but she was already on a roll.
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“The necklace, Thomas! What kind of ‘colleague’ gift is that? Did you think I wouldn’t figure it out?”
“It’s my mother’s,” I interrupted, showing her the name on it. “See? Amelia. I’m here because of her.”
Margaret looked skeptical, but before she could respond, Joe cleared his throat. “Excuse me, but that necklace… It saved someone’s life once.”
We all turned to him in surprise. Joe nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.
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“A woman sacrificed it once. She said it was her most valuable possession, but she didn’t hesitate to part with it. It’s a long story. I can take you to her.”
My breath caught. “You know her?”
“I think so,” he said. “If she’s who I think she is, she’ll be at the shelter. She’s always there, especially on the holidays.”
Shelter… Does that mean she’s ended up homeless?
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My heart twisted at the thought, but I nodded. “Let’s go.”
***
Despite the biting cold outside, the shelter glowed with warmth. Golden lights twinkled in the frosted windows, and inside, the hum of chatter and laughter mixed with the scent of spiced cider and fresh-baked cookies. My heart pounded as we stepped through the doors. The weight of hope and fear pressed down on me.
Is she here? Can this really be it?
We were greeted by a kind woman bustling about, her apron dusted with flour. She paused when she saw the necklace in my hand and gasped softly.
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“That’s a beautiful piece,” she said, her voice tinged with recognition. “I know it well. It saved me, you know.”
My throat tightened. “It was my mother’s. Do you know where it came from?”
“Come with me.”
The woman introduced herself as Alice, the owner of that small shop in town we’d already been to. She explained how, two years ago, she’d been on the brink of losing everything—the shop and the shelter.
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Then, a woman had appeared, disoriented but determined. She’d insisted on selling the necklace, refusing to take no for an answer. That woman was Amelia. My mother, Amelia.
Tears stung my eyes as Alice continued. “She’s been with me ever since, helping me run the shelter and shop. She’s remarkable, even though… she struggles with her memory. But she’s here tonight. I never leave her alone on the holidays.”
The room seemed to blur as I waited. And then I saw her.
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My mother stepped into the room. Her frame was thinner, her hair streaked with gray, but her eyes—those familiar, loving eyes—met mine. For a moment, she paused, and then tears filled her gaze.
“Mom,” I whispered, my voice breaking as I ran to her. She held me tightly, and the world around us faded.
We spent the evening in the warm embrace of the shelter’s community. Even Margaret, moved by Alice’s story, softened, donating generously and offering heartfelt apologies.
That night, I realized Christmas wasn’t just about presents or tradition. It was about love, hope, and second chances. Miracles, I thought, happen in the most unexpected ways.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: For months after Mark’s death, I was drowning in grief, clinging to signs I thought he was sending me. 11:11, 10:10, 09:09. They gave me hope, a lifeline. But a stranger turned those signs into something more.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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