Memories...
Tomorrow is Mothers day. I want to tell you about someone. Someone who was.... remarkable.
She was born during the War on September 4, 1942. Her Father, Howard, would be sent over to fight in Europe before her 2nd birthday, while her Mother, Louise, stayed home.
About 5 years later, a sister, Pat, came along.
They were not rich. But neither were they poor. They were working middle class. Her father worked in a small factory for many years.
When she was 16, she was involved in an accident which left her bedridden and nearly paralyzed for an entire year. Eventually, she went on to graduate High School, and she married her childhood sweetheart.
(This is where I come into the picture.)
After her injury, she was told never to have any children by her doctors. She ignored their advice, and had two very healthy boys. One in 1965, the other 2 years later in 1967. She and her husband were quite liberal with their boys. Yes, they were stern when needed, and when really needed, not afraid to give them a good spanking. But unlike so many of their generation, they never beat their kids.
I forget exactly what year it was, but when her oldest was around 12 or so, she suffered another injury. Originally diagnosed as some strained ligament, she had actually broken her knee. This injury would plague her for the rest of her life. For years she walked with a cane, and later in life, she had to use a wheelchair.
Something she was well known for was being everybody's mother. Every wayward kid their sons brought home, they called her Mom. And she treated them just as equally as her own sons. Over the years, the kids came and went, but a select few stayed around. They had really become her sons in all but the legal sense.
Years later, she was confined to a wheelchair, but this never phased her. She looked at it as a way to get around better. And she got around fine. She even helped raise her two grandchildren. Including one that was quite autistic. There was always room in the house for any of the kids who needed to move in for a while to get back on their feet.
She went out to take one of the grandkids home after visiting for the summer, and when she came home, she discovered she had a bladder infection. Then she fell, severely spraining her hip. These two things put her in the hospital and a rehab center from the end of August until almost Thanksgiving. But she was home. In pain, but home. Then, the first week of December, she developed a blood clot. One that caused her to lose most of her right leg. The bad one. But, she still had a great outlook. They were even discussing hip replacement surgery (for arthritis) and a prosthesis. She went into a different rehab center afterwards.
Christmas came. And Christmas night, the infection came back with a vengence. Still, she had a great outlook. She wanted to be home before the end of January. But the infection wouldn't go down. It ripped through her body. The end of January, the decision was made for Hospice care, and she passed away very early on February 3rd.
Her name was Mary Louise Allen. And she was my Mom.
Call your Mom on Mother's Day. Estranged or not, call her. Let her know how much you love her. Before the only thing you can do is buy flowers and remember.
She was born during the War on September 4, 1942. Her Father, Howard, would be sent over to fight in Europe before her 2nd birthday, while her Mother, Louise, stayed home.
About 5 years later, a sister, Pat, came along.
They were not rich. But neither were they poor. They were working middle class. Her father worked in a small factory for many years.
When she was 16, she was involved in an accident which left her bedridden and nearly paralyzed for an entire year. Eventually, she went on to graduate High School, and she married her childhood sweetheart.
(This is where I come into the picture.)
After her injury, she was told never to have any children by her doctors. She ignored their advice, and had two very healthy boys. One in 1965, the other 2 years later in 1967. She and her husband were quite liberal with their boys. Yes, they were stern when needed, and when really needed, not afraid to give them a good spanking. But unlike so many of their generation, they never beat their kids.
I forget exactly what year it was, but when her oldest was around 12 or so, she suffered another injury. Originally diagnosed as some strained ligament, she had actually broken her knee. This injury would plague her for the rest of her life. For years she walked with a cane, and later in life, she had to use a wheelchair.
Something she was well known for was being everybody's mother. Every wayward kid their sons brought home, they called her Mom. And she treated them just as equally as her own sons. Over the years, the kids came and went, but a select few stayed around. They had really become her sons in all but the legal sense.
Years later, she was confined to a wheelchair, but this never phased her. She looked at it as a way to get around better. And she got around fine. She even helped raise her two grandchildren. Including one that was quite autistic. There was always room in the house for any of the kids who needed to move in for a while to get back on their feet.
She went out to take one of the grandkids home after visiting for the summer, and when she came home, she discovered she had a bladder infection. Then she fell, severely spraining her hip. These two things put her in the hospital and a rehab center from the end of August until almost Thanksgiving. But she was home. In pain, but home. Then, the first week of December, she developed a blood clot. One that caused her to lose most of her right leg. The bad one. But, she still had a great outlook. They were even discussing hip replacement surgery (for arthritis) and a prosthesis. She went into a different rehab center afterwards.
Christmas came. And Christmas night, the infection came back with a vengence. Still, she had a great outlook. She wanted to be home before the end of January. But the infection wouldn't go down. It ripped through her body. The end of January, the decision was made for Hospice care, and she passed away very early on February 3rd.
Her name was Mary Louise Allen. And she was my Mom.
Call your Mom on Mother's Day. Estranged or not, call her. Let her know how much you love her. Before the only thing you can do is buy flowers and remember.