As I sit down to write a Eulogy honoring my mom, Rosemary, I may first write the one I won’t say aloud. This quote helps to get the process going from a One Day at at Time book:
“Painful experiences come from the thorns that wound us. They make us forget they also have roses!We cannot expect to enjoy life’s colors, beauty and fragrance, without accepting the thorny challenges and learning how to deal with them.” — (an Al-Anon.fellowship quotation.)
Here is her life story.
Mom was stricken with the polio virus at age 4. After 7 operations to straighten legs, kneecaps and feet, at age 12, doctors told her and her alone, that she would never bear children. She did not share this news with her own mother, fearing the weight of her burden on the family would be greater with more sad news. After repeated summer physical therapies, once casts were removed, she adjusted her gait to walk “as normal” as possible. She did what other normal girls did, play with dolls, sell girl scout cookies, and sang in a school choir. At age 12, she was on the Maurice Sachs first television show and sang for an audience to win a prize.
At age 20, she went to a dance on Halloween and met Ray. He asked her to dance. Ray was so taken by Rosemary’s beauty that he didn’t even notice her limp. She spun into his arms and by the next May, they married. She worked for 5 years at the Talman Federal Bank in Chicago, and at age 24, had her first baby girl and a boy two years later. At 30, her 3rd child, another girl, was born. Rosemary kept a journal and wrote that year how blessed she was to bear 3 normal children, and blamed herself if we had anemia but was still grateful to God for these blessings.
My mom and dad enjoyed their young family very much. She bought an organ and tried to learn to play. But at age 36, mother’s back gave out. It became very painful to walk or even transfer to an organ bench. Her doctor told her it would not get better, in fact, it was likely to get worse. Pain pills did not work, but alcohol provided some escape. There were turbulent years as the economy dipped into a recession. She set her mind in the Fall to get a job to help the family, and succeeded by August, when the corner bank 3 blocks away hired her as a receptionist. By the next Fall, the bank president fired her, saying he didn’t like having customers watch her limp to a copy machine. Other bankers were not allowed to assist her with her job if it took her away from the desk. Weight gain from pain pills and depression set in and mom tried to cope.
She still enjoyed sewing and gardening throughout motherhood when her body allowed her to get down low to the ground, sit on a garden stool, and plant flowers. She sewed headdresses for boy scout pow wows, the poncho, bedspreads, curtains, and even took in garment work from the neighbors, sewing drapes for my best friend’s mother.
When post polio struck her body, wiping out her hands’ dexterity, she could no longer sew or knit. Television shows were the only entertainment upon which she relied to escape beyond other vices.
Raising teens was no picnic, and we didn’t make it any easier on mom. While there was chaos, we all leaned on survival skills and helped out around the house, but leaned on friends in the neighborhood for respite from turmoil in a tiny house. Dad worked long hours to keep on saving and providing for us, and built modified rails and ramps to accommodate the wheelchair.
One morning, in 1995, the alarm went off for Dad to go to work Only God said, not today, Ray. Dad fell back into bed; his heart stopped. Mom was at his side when he died. She became a widow at 56.
It was amazing to us that she had became fairly independent, with hydraulic lifts anchored in the ceiling to assist her transferring from wheelchair to bed. Mom was tough and a survivor. My sister drove in often from Wisconsin to take mom grocery shopping. Neighbors helped her out at times, and a lawn cutting service was hired. She had food delivered at times. She lived in the house for another decade. We convinced her to wear the alert necklace in case she fell. Later that year, she did. It failed to alert the service because her hand knocked a phone off the hook and she could not reach the alert button buried under twisted limbs.
Her mother rescued her despite suffering from emphysema in a nursing home located suburb of Chicago. Grandma routinely called mom every day at 6 pm, for years. Only this time the phone rang busy. Grandma called a neighbor to check, who upon finding mom on the floor in her bedroom, called an ambulance. Mom broke her shoulder in the fall, and after a hospital stay, recovered at the same nursing home as her own mother was staying. A few weeks later, nurses came to my mom’s room in the nursing home and told her that grandma was dying. Mom was able to wheel down the hall to the next wing, and hold her own mother’s hand. “I’ll be fine mom, Don’t worry about me. Go to Jesus.” Once again, mom was at the side of a loved one whose time had come.
Mom agreed to have a live-in caregiver after that fall. It was incredibly challenging to find, hire and retain a caregiver when all her children were out of state. I handled mom’s finances and hiring, while my sister visited often, making frequent road trips. Three years later, we discovered the caregiver was providing alcohol and pain killers, without adhering to prescription restrictions. Mom was the “boss” and the caregiver gave in to mom’s requests for medications and ill timed remedies.
Emergency police were called along with all of the three children (including her son in Guam at the Air Force base), We were alerted to mom’s panic attack and delusional state. My sister came to her rescue from Wisconsin and drove her to the ER. I flew in and fired the caregiver, fixed up the house with new carpet, and removed files, mail, and personal items. We closed up the house.
Mom recovered in the same nursing home as before, and when it was time for discharge, we decided this should be her new home.
Visiting mom frequently from out of state became more expensive. My sister found a wonderful nursing home just 15 minutes from her home in Wisconsin.
We sold the house in Chicago, and moved mom up north, closer to her daughters. From age 70 to 74, mom had the best service, her hair and make up always looking sharp, her outfits and jewelry coordinated. She was the youngest and most lively person among the residents there. “It seems to raise the flag each morning here, they must get me out of bed,” mom said, amazed after spending 90 percent of the time in Illinois in bed. She had a neat den to watch TV and a pleasant courtyard and dining hall. She played “balloon” volleyball daily at 11 am, dressed for the day.
Post Polio caused her strife, leaving just one limb, one hand that worked to feed herself. But mom wore a smile, and truly appreciated my sister’s frequent visits, and our phone calls. Her pain management was much more controlled and while she still had tremendous pain issues, there was more social interaction and cheerful distractions.
Aspiration from post polio impacting her swallowing muscles, which in the end, caused pneumonia. Doctors alerted us that she was dying, and mom knew her time was near. She was able to talk with us each briefly on the phone, and my sister was by her side for the days in the hospital. My brother and I traveled quickly to Wisconsin to be at Mom’s side on her final day. We all got to say goodbye to an amazing lady who showed us how to live with boldness. Her smile, inner strength, perseverance and bravery to accept God’s crosses she had to bear are to be remembered. She loved the Lord and I pray she is dancing in heaven, sewing and gardening and finally able to wear pretty, high heeled shoes.