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Memories of Mom

By Martha Jette

I may be 56 year s old, but I still think back more than 35 years to a woman who

vanished from my life so long ago? Its because she was one of a kind a soul that loved,lost, hurt, suffered and loved again.

I first laid eyes on Vera when I was 7 years old. I had been taken from the foster home to

the childrens aid to get a new outfit. I have to tell you; that was just unheard of so I knew

something really big was about to happen to me.Before I knew it, a man drove up in a big, blue Oldsmobile. I was told to hop in the

passenger seat and my small cotton-lined box, which contained my meager belongings,

was placed on the seat behind me. I didnt know this man and as he drove, he didnt sayanything. I was scared, so I clutched my arms across my chest and just prayed that Id be

safe.

When we finally arrived at a lovely ranch-style house with a stunning rock garden infront, I stepped out of the car. As I strode up the long driveway with my Raggedy Ann

doll clutched tightly under one arm, there she was! She looked stunning in her breezy

summer dress - hair shining silver in the sunlight. I will never forget how warmly shewelcomed me and how very excited she was.

Oh, darn it! I have to use the sandbox again! she squealed with delight. I have been so

anxious to meet you, I just keep having to go again and again!

As this woman scurried about, I watched her and soon felt more at ease. Within no time,we were all piled into that Olds and traveling north to Algonquin Park. It was fall and as

we walked the winding forest path, pine needles blanketed the ground crackling

underfoot. After about an hour of strolling and chatting, they asked me to step aside and Icould hear them whispering softly to each other, but not loud enough to be able to make

out just what they were saying. Then Vera returned to me, threw her arms about me and

said:Remember this place, Sherry. This is where weve made up our mind that we want you

to be our little girl!

I was overjoyed, but didnt quite know how to respond. Nothing truly wonderful had

ever, ever happened to me before, so I just smiled shyly.It would be another month before I would see this couple again - Ray, a portly figure of a

man, with red hair - Vera, petite and feminine. I later learned that she had been through

far too much pain for her 42 years. Her suffering began as an infant, when she was bornas the fourth girl in her family. Dismayed and angry, Veras father threw her to the ground

and cursed her. She worked most of her life in offices and eventually met her husband,

who was a manager for Metropolitan Life Insurance.

I never did find out which one of them was incapable of having children. My father wasone of a dozen kids in a poor family. After his mother died, he, as the oldest, was forced

to take care of the entire brood. In actual fact, he had no use for children, but he knew

how much Vera longed for at least one, so much in fact, that she suffered a breakdown inher late 30s.

I promised God that if I pulled through, I would adopted a child, she told me one day.

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And so, Ray and Vera became my parents in November 1957. I had just turned 8 and it

was decided that I would be given a new name. It was changed from Charlene Delores

White to Martha Christine Hannon. Your name sounds too much like a gypsy, she said.She told me Martha meant little helper and Christine meant a gift from God. Though

I was happy about it at the time, it was very strange for a while printing the new name on

my work in Grade 2.I was also given my very first birthday party. I could not believe the beautiful dolls, new

clothes and other gifts that I received. I truly believed Id died and gone to heaven!

My mother was very watchful over me. She made sure she always knew where I wasgoing and when Id be back. I knew she loved me dearly and she showed it in so many

ways. This was all new to me and I soaked up every single hug and kiss as if it would be

my last. Each summer was spent together up at their cottage on Lake Simcoe a place I

quickly learned to love, because I had her all to myself, while my father stayed in the cityto work. We spent many a night laughing and joking together. She had such a wonderful

laugh so free and happy.

When I turned 11, she sat me down and explained that she was ill. Cancer had insidiously

worked its way into her chest and she would have to have an operation to remove one ofher breasts. I was devastated. No! No! God, you cannot, I repeat, cannot take her away

from me! I wailed.Mom had her operation and was soon back home, smiling and happy as before. One

would never have known she felt any pain at all. When I expressed my fear of losing her,

she replied: I will never leave you. I love you too much!

She was having some trouble with the prosthetic theyd given her. It was winter and theplastic, which became very hard and dug deep into her skin. Her solution was to make her

own using a nylon stocking and some birdseed. We laughed so much about the fact that

she left a trail of seeds around the house wherever she went.I then learned she would have to go for chemotherapy treatments on a regular basis. As

young as I was, I had no idea what that entailed, but I accompanied her on many trips to

the hospital. Through it all the weakness, the throwing up and the pain she continuedto smile and joke about her circumstances.

That year, we drove by car to Florida, along with my best friend Sharron. It was my first

time traveling so far, so it was nice to have a friend along. Two days into our vacation,my mother lost all her hair. It just came out in huge clumps and for the first time, I saw

her show concern. My father went right out and bought her a big, floppy hat, which

seemed to do the trick, because in no time, she was smiling again as if nothing had

happened.This, of course, relieved my mind somewhat, but it was only months later that we learned

the cancer had spread throughout her body. Always an active woman, she soon had

trouble walking and fell frequently. I always tried to be home quickly after school tomake sure she was all right. Over the course of the next two years, she became

progressively worse and by the time I was 14, she suffered more and more every day. I

went to bed every night and prayed that God would relieve her pain. Yet, wheneverrelatives or neighbors stopped by, she was as bright and cheery as usual always ready

with a joke and that wonderful smile.

By this time, I was well in the habit of cooking the meals, cleaning the house, doing the

laundry and completing my homework without supervision. I had a couple of friends that

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I would visit or that would drop by, but I spent most of my time making sure mom had

everything she needed. Her favorite drink was Coke with a squirt of lemon and she

always kept a cold glass beside her. It seemed to settle her stomach and quench her thirstat the same time.

By the time I was 15 mom was bedridden. I had to help her use the toilet and brought her

all her meals. At night, I would hear her moaning in pain and by this time, I prayed thatGod would take her. My father often went on business trips, sometimes out of the

country. It was during one such trip that the unexpected happened. I awoke that Saturday

morning, got dressed and prepared moms breakfast. Then I took it in to her, but sheappeared to still be asleep. As I tried gently to rouse her, she moaned in pain, but did not

come around. After listening to several heartbreaking moans, they turned into desperate

screams, yet she still was not awake!

Not knowing what to do, I ran to one of our favorite neighbors. Eventually, an ambulancewas called and it was explained to me that mom was in a coma. I was scared very, very

scared that I would loose her this time. My father arrived home quickly and went to her

side. When he got back home, he told me the doctors did not expect her to make it.

Again, I was crushed. What would I do without her? I loved her so very, very much.God must have smiled down from heaven that day, because she did survive. When she

returned home, she made a point again of telling me that she would never leave me.Never. I was overjoyed, but that joy would be short lived. She began treatments on her

head. I knew, because shed come home with little black markings on her forehead. She

finally told me that she was undergoing cobalt balm treatments because the cancer had

spread to her brain.While my father was away in New York City my mother seemed to deteriorate mentally.

Many times, she would spill her coffee and/or drop her cigarette on the floor. I had to

basically watch her every second that I was home. I was 16 by then and while at school, Iworried about whether she was all right and hurried home to make sure.

Then on Saturday she said: Pack up all your dads stuff. I dont want to look at it.

Taken off guard, I didnt know how to respond, but I helped her put some things into theupper shelf in their bedroom closet.

Now, she said, I want to go up to the cottage.

It was February, so I knew this was definitely not a good idea. At that time of year, therewas no water, as the pipe was not out in the lake and the lake was frozen solid. I tried to

reason with her, but to no avail. She wanted to go and would not take no for an answer.

She also wanted to take our big, color TV and her mink stole, which I placed carefully

into our newer Oldsmobile. At the same time, I was thinking how truly odd her behaviorhad become and wondered what I should do about it. My boyfriend at the time drove us

north toward Lake Simcoe. During the trip, she muttered a number of things that made

absolutely no sense.Brian, I said, lets stop off in Orillia at my aunts place. I want to talk to them first.

It turned out to be a very wise decision, because after speaking with mom for a bit, both

my aunt and uncle realized that she had lost touch with reality. They immediately calledmy father in New York and he flew home right away. That very first day, my father had

taken her to our local psychiatric hospital, but they refused to take her. She was too far

gone. The next three days were horrible, as I watched her fall apart before my eyes. I did

not go to school during this time, because her behavior was so erratic. She got on the

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phone and ordered color TV sets for just about everyone on the street. Later, when my

father got wind of it, he flipped. Then she called her favorite ladies shop and gave them

hell about something. She thought she owned the store.My job was to keep her off the phone, follow her about to ensure she didnt burn the

house down and generally, treat her like a child. I really hated to do that. The nights were

even more stressful. As I laid in bed that first night, I knew my father was trying to getmom to take some pills that the doctor had given her. I could hear mom crying and

protesting. Then she called me through her sobs.

Martha! Martha! Help me! Hes trying to kill me!She was adamant that she would not take them. I could hear them scuffle and ran from

my bed. There was my father sitting on her on the floor trying to shove those pills right

down her throat. That just tore my heart out and I cried myself to sleep.

After the third day, my father announced that we would be taking mom to a special homein Guelph where they had the facilities to take care of her. Of course, we could not let on

that we were actually putting her away, so we told her we were all getting into the car

to go to the cottage the place she loved so much. It was kind of a mean trick, but it

worked until we got to the gates of the facility.Youre trying to put me away! she screamed. I dont want to go in there!

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and mine as we led her up the steps to the frontdoor. I could not believe it had come to this and my heart just ached. Mom spent three

months there and during that time, was given shock treatments. We drove up to visit with

her every Sunday, which more often than not resulted in her hating us for putting her

there. The guilt was just unbearable. It was so terribly hard to walk away each time and tocome back home to our big house that seemed to rattle without her.

Finally, the day came for us to bring her home. I was so excited. It was kind of like the

reverse of our first meeting, only this time I greeted her with open arms. Mom wascoming home and I was relieved, at least for a while.

Well, Im sure you can guess that this was not the end of her travail. The cancer

continued to ravage her tiny frame and she became weaker every day. I continued to carefor her every need, while she tried so hard to smile through her pain. In fact, whenever a

relative or neighbor dropped by, shed sit right up and crack a few jokes, just to ease the

tension. It really was heartbreaking for me to watch, because I knew that as soon as theyleft, she would sink right down again.

Then when I was 18, the day came when she slipped back into that nether world again

and we were sure she wouldnt make it this time. She was in a coma for several days, but

to everyones surprise, she pulled through once more.Again, she said, I will never leave you. I love you too much.

By this time, I believe her. I also thought about my name change. I really had become a

little helper and I thanked God that he had sent me there to care for her. At 19, Igraduated college and soon after married my college sweetheart. In fact, I was pregnant

with my first daughter when mom was taken back to the hospital. When I walked in, I

heard her ask my dad for a glass of Coke with a squirt of lemon. He dutifully went to getit for her, while we spent a few precious minutes together. I somehow knew it would be

our last.

Mom, I said. I love you so much. Please dont leave. I want you to see your

grandchild.

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She responded: I will never leave you, Martha. I love you too much.

That night, my father called to say that she had slipped away quietly in her sleep. Though

she has now been gone for 37 years, I still see her wonderful smile and hear her joyouslaughter, even through all that pain. I remember well, the laughter and the tears

intermingled in a mother-daughter relationship that will never die. I know that she is up

there still smiling and watching over me because she loves me too much!