My mom was a loving and caring person. I took care of her for 6 years until she passed away. She had a lot of heart and spirit. Just a brief introduction, She got sick Dec. 10th, 2006 and passed away Dec. 10th, 2007. During her illness I had no inclination that this would be the worst 12 months of our lives. It shouldn’t have been. This story was one long nightmare and a journey to the final end of her life. Out of this story and web site I hope
everyone will benefit on dealing with aging parent or spouses and avoid some of the pain we had to deal with.
My mom was born May 13th, 1933 in a small town called Cronton, England. She had a lot of spunk. A type of person to smile no matter how tough things got. She would help almost everyone no matter how many times people took advantage of her. She would still be there for them regardless. How I admired her, I wish I was able to do the same. Her life was real interesting. Her parents were farmers and lived just above poverty level. When she was growing up she had no idea about her future, especially that was the time Hitler was bombing England and she had to dodge them by going into bomb shelters on her way to school. Imagine on how much her life would have changed if Hitler
won the war. As it turns out, she was able to get through that point in her life and graduate from high school, eventuall working as a receptionist at a United States Air Force Base in England. She was a great typist. Of course, like many British women fell in love with a G.I., my Dad. He was stationed at the Air Force Base as a Drill Sargeant where my Mom was working. Just a few short years prior to meeting my Mom, he was a bomberdier
during the World War II campaign. He also suffered quite a bit from the war. Especially after he was shot down from his B-12 plane and parachuted into Germany territory. From there, he had to see the horror of being a prisoner in the concentration camps before being liberated from the American forces.
However, he made it and was able to live somewhat of a normal life
My Mom and Dad soon married in the 1950's and moved around quite a bit since he was in the military. Eventually they ended up back in Brooklyn, New York where my father was born. Within a few years they quickly had their first kid in 1959, my older brother named Wayne. Of course, being that my mom came from a big family she wasn't happy with one, so eventually she delivered my other brother Peter (born in 1961) and than myself. I was born in 1963.
We were all being raised in a lower middle class family located in Lindenhurst, New York. My father was a mechanic at Pan American Airlines. My mom was a housewife and worked part time at Carvel Ice Cream store to help financially. One good thing was all the free ice cream! But were all content with just having a roof over our head and what was provided from our family. Although, it was a rough neighborhood to grow up as a kid.
My Dad was a strict disciplined military person, You do what he says or else... POW right in the kisser. My mom was the opposite, we can go to her to try and get away with little things that our father would not. But, I appreciate where my father comes from, a generation who experienced the depression and WW II.
How things change right before us. As a kid, you never think about the change of life and how fast it goes by. I often think to myself, wouldn't be nice to think like that again, not to worry about change! Most people have a very hard time dealing with change and admit I am one of them.
