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A tribute to a mother




This article is submitted as a tribute to Mother, September 24, 1922 – January 29, 1946.

As we all know, no two people are alike, especially in the thought process. I sometimes get my faculties working properly and get into the memory mode and get in over my head, so to speak. Anyone reading this paper will probably never live to see it, but I predict that in the future, if the world lasts long enough, people will have to learn of the plagues of today such as cancer, AIDS, drugs, TB, diabetes, etc., from history books.

Somewhere, buried in the unknown future, there are cures for all these plagues and they will be found. But by then, new ones will appear to take their place.

I have seen friends and loved ones slowly fade away before my eyes like a flower. Some have faded quickly while others have lingered a long time as if waiting for a miracle which never came. But they all met the some inevitable, death.

I watches as they slowly faded into memory and I could do nothing. It hurt to see this happen and the hurt only gets worse with time. Many times I have wondered why, but I never question the will of God.

Mother died the same way, January 29, 1946. I was too young to remember her, but still the bond existed between us, never to be broken. I have lived my life loving a mother I can’t even remember. All I have is a picture and only know what people have told me about her.

She died of complications from TB and diabetes. At the time, either disease was equal to a death sentence, but today neither one is.

I often wonder what thoughts ran through her mind as she lingered on. She knew she was doomed to die, leaving behind a husband and four small children, one still in diapers. I am sure she prayed many a prayer for us, wondering what was going to become of her babies when she left us. I can only imagine the anguish and heartbreak she saw.

I was told that when she became too weak to pick us up to love on us, she would get down on the floor with us because she wanted us to know how much she loved us. Eventually she became too weak to even get on the floor with us.

She had to be separated from us the last three months lived, seeing us only once during that time, briefly. We were in Letcher County and she was with our grandparents in Breathitt County, which is quite a distance away. She was with her parents when she died.

Grandma (Dad’s mother) was taking care of us. Dad was with Mother when she died and didn’t return till she was buried, probably the day after she died.

If it wouldn’t cause people to think and talk bad about my family, I would like to be buried the same way, in a handmade, plain wooden coffin. I thank God that Mother never knew what lay in store for her children after her death. I doubt if she ever imagined the abuse, both physical and mental, that we kids would suffer as we grew up. From that realization I have drawn comfort and courage through my life.

If any of you readers still have one or both of your parents, please spend all the quality time you can with them. Let them know you love them and what they mean to you. I didn’t have that opportunity.


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