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Love Poems and Sad stories - The Beginning of the End

Updated on December 4, 2012

My Mother

My Mother
My Mother
My Mother with Geraldine
My Mother with Geraldine
Final Resting Place
Final Resting Place

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The Beginning of the End

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When the call came from his father, telling him to come home as soon as possible, he knew what it meant. The last time that he had been home, a few months earlier, it had somehow seemed different from all of the others.

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Since he had moved to Michigan in 1967, he had tried to get home as often as possible and each time he would feel sad when he had to leave. His mother’s health had gradually declined since she broke her hip until she was finally confined to bed.

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However, each time that he had come home before, she had managed to sit up for a little while in her wheel chair. This time she remained in bed and she slept most of the time.

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As soon as his car was out of the driveway, he began to cry uncontrollably. He suddenly realized that this might have been the last time that he would ever see her alive. He knew that this was the beginning of the end and that his life would never be the same.

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Now the time had come. He quickly called his brother in Illinois and his sister in Milwaukee and told them that he would pick them up on the way home to visit their mother in the hospital.

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When they arrived home, their father took them to the hospital to see their mother. Her eyes were closed and she was unable to talk, but she seemed to recognize them by their voices. They took turns talking to her until it was time to leave.

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After two days, nothing had changed, so they reluctantly made plans to return to their jobs the next day. Around 9:00 PM, the call came from the hospital saying that their mother had passed away. She had willed herself to stay alive just long enough to be with her children one more time.

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They quickly revised their plans so that they could stay for the funeral. The funeral mass was performed in the same church where her son, Gordon, had his nearly 27 years earlier. She was buried in the grave next to him. Her one regret was that she could never afford to move her daughter’s body from the pauper’s grave where she lay buried in a Milwaukee cemetery.

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My mother’s story had begun when she graduated from the eighth grade in a one-room schoolhouse in a tiny town in North Central Wisconsin. (Graduation) She was forced to grow up quickly and was sent to Milwaukee to work as a waitress.

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Eventually, she married a handsome young man who turned out to be an abusive drunk. To save her life and to protect her two, young children, she fled back to her parents’ farm using The Five Dollar Gold Piece that her father had given her on her wedding night.

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Her parents were very poor and so there was no money for her and her children. At The Church Picnic, she could only watch as the other young mother’s bought ice cream for their children.

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She was forced to seek assistance from the county, but they quickly decided to send her back to Milwaukee, where she came from. During The Train Ride back she wonders what she will find when she gets there.

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Eventually, she meets my father (The Man of the House) and they get married. Unfortunately, it is during the Great Depression and he soon loses his job. To feed his family, he is forced to sort through rich people’s garbage for (Rags, Bottles and Paper).

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They are even too poor to buy (The Winter Coat) that their daughter, Geraldine, needs so that she can go too school. They ask the County and the Red Cross for help, but when it finally arrives it is too late. Her daughter has died of a ruptured appendix.

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The Depression ends and they move back to North Central Wisconsin where they can grow some vegetables and raise a few chickens. Things seem to be getting better until 1946, when her oldest son, Gordon, Commits suicide on (Halloween).

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Now she has lost both children from her first marriage but she still has two sons and a daughter from her second one. Her youngest son, Roger, graduated from college and moves to Newburgh, New York to work. At last he can fulfill his mother’s Dream to see (New York, New York).

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But things don’t always go as planned. His mother breaks her hip before she can make the trip. Her son watches helplessly as his mother’s health gradually declines and now it is (The Beginning of the End).

However the story continues as my father manages to survive on his own for six more years. In the next chapter you will find out how (The Gold Wedding Band) solves an unexplained mystery and my father is buried next to m mother.

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The locations where this true story takes place

A
Wausau, WI:
Wausau, WI, USA

get directions

B
Detroit, MI:
Detroit, MI, USA

get directions

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    • profile image

      klarawieck 

      6 years ago

      Thanks! I'll be sure to look for them. :D

    • rjsadowski profile imageAUTHOR

      rjsadowski 

      6 years ago

      I was only in Hungary once, but I have had several friends who were born there. Hungarian is a difficult language to learn but I have managed to translate two Love Poems by Sandor Petofi into English. You can find them if you look for them.

    • profile image

      klarawieck 

      6 years ago

      Thanks, rjsadowski. I have an infatuation with Hungarian culture for some reason. If you believe in that sort of thing, it comes from a spiritual source. My brother who is also a musician, spent a year living and working in Budapest. It was during the 80's so Hungary was not at its best. He still has incredible memories of the people and the beauty of the country and the capital. I hope to go one day. It will be a dream come true to see those Roma musicians playing csardas in true Hungarian style.

    • rjsadowski profile imageAUTHOR

      rjsadowski 

      6 years ago

      Thanks for your comment. By some strange coincidence, my mother's first name was also Clara but spelled with a C in stead of a K. I have gone back and tried to provide links to other Hubs about my mother. I hope that they are working.

    • profile image

      klarawieck 

      6 years ago

      Well, you're like me. We've both had our share of troubles and so have our ancestors. That can only mean one thing - we know how to enjoy the present and we're grateful for what we have. This is a moving story. I'll eagerly wait for part 2.

      Your mother looks beautiful with her violin. What a gorgeous portrait!

    • writer20 profile image

      Joyce Haragsim 

      6 years ago from Southern Nevada

      This is a sad story and you've written it so well. I'll wait for the next installment as well.

    • always exploring profile image

      Ruby Jean Richert 

      6 years ago from Southern Illinois

      I'm sitting here crying like a baby. Life was so difficult for your family. I am so sorry. People today have no idea how bad it was back then. You are a good story teller..Waiting for the next installment...

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