It’s always a thrill for me to open my page for guest posts and share some great writing. Today it’s a special honor to present a very meaningful and personal story written by my sister, Rosemarie Houlihan. I believe her words will touch your hearts as they did mine.

Mom’s 90th birthday

If I believed in saints, my mother would be one.

Mom had a very difficult life. Her mother was an invalid requiring daily injections and healthcare which my mother gave her. Yet, despite my grandmother’s fragile health, she imposed rules and regulations which my mother had to follow.

As a child my mother did all the heavy household jobs such as scrubbing the marble steps leading up to the first floor of their three-family house. Her education was limited to the eighth grade because she had to go to work to supplement her father’s income. Mom’s first year of work was as an unpaid apprentice dressmaker. She remained a dressmaker most of her life and her work was unparalleled.

When my parents married in 1939, they lived with my mother’s parents. My father and grandfather worked conflicting hours, so Mom was always cooking a meal for someone.

A baby boy was born in 1941 but he had kidney disease and died at home at the age of two. War had already broken out and my father was called to serve. Married men with children were not being drafted at the time so all Mom’s aunts had their husbands and babies home with them. Mom was bereft, at home, caring for her mother and mourning the loss of her baby. She would sit on her bed folding and unfolding her baby’s unused clothes. Her aunts saw what this was doing to Mom and convinced her to accompany them on an errand. While she was out, her uncles dismantled the crib and put all the baby’s things in storage. Mom was furious when she returned but this act of tough love probably saved her sanity.

I was born after my father returned from WWII and then exactly four years later, on my birthday, my sister was born.

Throughout her life Mom cared for someone who was sick. Her mother, her baby, her father and eventually her husband who was ill for more than thirty years. When my great-grandmother Mada Rana found herself in need of care, my mother took her into our home and looked after her as well.

I was so used to my mother always sewing at home, doing alterations for friends and neighbors, making clothes for me and my sister, I thought nothing of “volunteering” her to sew all the ladies’ costumes for a Gilbert & Sullivan production at our high school. As busy as Mom was, she got the job done and became the official costumer for all our plays until my sister graduated high school.

Despite all she did for us, I remember feeling “cheated” that my mom was not like other moms. She didn’t sit with us after school and chat; in fact, we never really “talked”. She was always working at something – cooking, sewing, cleaning.

Into her old age Mom continued caring for my father – and he was a handful! He was a good man but incapable of doing much. Still, Mom took great pride in taking care of Dad, calling it “her duty”. I’ve often wondered if Dad was truly incapable or did he feel inadequate because Mom could do anything she set her mind to? Mom was a powerhouse and Dad may have felt overwhelmed. Who knows what he might have been capable of if given half a chance? Maybe he could have helped Mom but she didn’t know how to share the load.

When Dad died, Mom aged abruptly; she became overwhelmed with day-to-day life. The change was shocking but when I think about it, she relaxed for the first time in her life and just let go.

Throughout her life Mom never complained.  She never cried, never shouted – and everything stayed inside her, tightly sealed.

I am in a place now where I compare myself to Mom because my dear husband of 54 years has major health issues – not only physical but emotional. And I am failing miserably at caring for him.

I say I’m failing because I do not have the grace that my mother had. I cry, I yell and curse, chastise and apologize and resent him while always loving him. I start each day saying I will do better, but he rarely smiles or says “good morning, how are you” – and, of course, I take it personally which I know I shouldn’t.

But it hurts. The man I married and looked up to is facing his inability to live as he used to. His eyesight has failed him, his memory is poor, his ability to do anything physical, mechanical, technical – all gone. He feels diminished, sad, useless.

And I don’t know what to do.

Oh, I participate in a twice-monthly caregivers’ group and it is cathartic. I make promises to myself. And when I “talk” to my mother, the memories of her ability to cope often come to me. And I listen.

Do I believe in saints? Actually, I do.

RH © 2022


    1. I apologize for taking an inexcusably long time to respond to you, KK. I didn’t realize your comment was sitting here unanswered. This was written by my sister about our mother. Rosemarie never fancied herself a writer but I beg to differ. Thank you for your heartfelt comment.

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Eish, what a riveting and moving piece by Rosemarie. Some are born with a kind and accomodative heart like the narrator’s mother. I’m stunned she could manage all her duties perfectly and take care of the sick. And I think her lack of time for the kids was a part of it. May she rest in peace. The narrator may hope to be like her, but how true it is to know that however much we try, we can only be who we are not like others. Her mother was unique and unrepeatable and I think she very well did her part. I enjoyed this piece. Plaudits to the writer. ❤💐

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, my mother had a difficult life and now my sister is feeling the same sorrow. It is not an easy road to walk. Thank you for your lovely words; I shall pass them on to Rosemarie. 💕


  2. This is a remarkable interview by your sister Nancy. It must be hard to relive some of it. This sounds so much like my mom right now after my stepdad has died. A special interview reliving those memories as well!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. If is very difficult for my sister, Cindy. Theirs was as close to perfect a marriage as one could hope for. Now her husband is someone she no longer recognizes and Rosemarie is finding it extremely difficult to cope. She changed her mind several times about posting her story as this is a very personal subject but in the end decided some people who are going through the same things might relate to the story and know they are not alone. Thank you, my dear friend. 💜


  3. Your Mom sounds like a wonderful lady. How cool to share your birthday with your sister! Don’t be so hard on yourself, what you are going through would be difficult for anyone. I hope it gets better for you Nancy. (((Hugs)))

    Liked by 1 person

    1. My sister wrote this, Diane, and those were my exact words to her: “Don’t be so hard on yourself”. Our mother was an amazing woman who sacrificed a lot for many people. I hope doing so brought her joy.
      Birthdays – when we were kids sharing a birthday was not fun. People would give us one gift and say “This is for the two of you” and it would be something like a diary or a pair of ice skates which only fit one of us! It got better as we got older and now we can laugh about it. xo


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