How did I find the strength to even breathe, much less walk, talk or live, after the death of my 15-year-old son from an accident two years ago? My mother is the short and long answer.
My beautiful, blue-eyed, blond-haired son, bright, athletic, loving, popular, lost his own life, and my life as I knew it went with him. I was blindsided. The intense grief and extreme pain were unbearable and still are at times. But that is another story. This story is about my mother who, although she died two years before my son, was and is my strongest pillar.
My mother was born in 1924 and, from one perspective, was one of the lucky ones during the Great Depression. Her father was an assistant district lawyer, so she grew up with food on the table, decent clothes and a warm apartment to live in.
She married my father, a heart surgeon, shortly after World War Ⅱ. They moved to Pittsburgh in 1958 and raised six children in Fox Chapel, ending up with 15 grandchildren by the time they celebrated their 60th anniversary a few weeks before she died at age 86.
As a mother and spouse, she was remarkable. Taking my father's long, stressful hours at General Hospital into account, she was in charge of everything—finances, school schedules, housework, discipline. She was also involved in volunteer activities for the hospital and American Heart Association.
Dealing with things in a practical way, she managed to attend her children's many activities with enthusiasm and still make time to sit with my father when he got home long after the dinner hour. She would listen to his day's events devotedly, and she rarely complained about his long hours or her many responsibilities.
Often doubled over in fits of laughter at the dinner table, she had a great sense of humor and was infamous for having quiet laugh attacks during Sunday mass. She loved to read and was addicted to her daily crossword puzzles. I loved all these things about my mother and sought to imitate her as a young woman.
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My mother never complained.
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But after ex experiencing the loss of my son, I found myself…
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