My Mom
by August Turak , in Uncategorized
[caption id="attachment_6345" align="alignright" width="300"]
In loving memory of Peggy Kelly Turak[/caption]
In 1984 my mother died. It is now 2015. She has been dead for 31 years. I am now just one year older than she was when she passed away at 61. My mother married at what was then the ripe old age of 28 and went on to have 10 pregnancies and 8 children in the ensuing 12 years. I am her first born and my mother was always my champion and full time cheerleader.
Back in the 1970's I was racing from Washington D.C to Cleveland Ohio on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. When I saw the exit for Pittsburgh I impulsively pulled off and took a 50 mile detour just to surprise her. When I burst through the front door she was watching TV, and I will never forget the look of ineffable delight on her face as she raced into my arms.
I was on a very tight schedule and a few minutes later I was climbing into my van. Suddenly I heard my mother shouting "Augie!" at the top of her lungs. She was standing at the top of the grassy hill overlooking the street outside our front door. I rolled down the window just in time to hear her shout, "You got chutzpah!"
It was a rare week indeed when my mother and I didn't talk at least once on the phone, and I even called her from a Greek island while on vacation even though it meant going to the local telephone exchange and spending a fortune to make the call.
It is said that time heals all wounds and I've found that this is true. But it comes with a cost. Several years ago I said to my brother Jon. "You know I don't think of Mom much anymore." "Neither do I," he sadly replied.
I now often must make a conscious effort to keep her memory alive and when I'm successful it also means experiencing the pain of just how much I still miss her. But I'm still glad I make the effort.
In loving memory of Peggy Kelly Turak[/caption]In 1984 my mother died. It is now 2015. She has been dead for 31 years. I am now just one year older than she was when she passed away at 61. My mother married at what was then the ripe old age of 28 and went on to have 10 pregnancies and 8 children in the ensuing 12 years. I am her first born and my mother was always my champion and full time cheerleader.
Back in the 1970's I was racing from Washington D.C to Cleveland Ohio on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. When I saw the exit for Pittsburgh I impulsively pulled off and took a 50 mile detour just to surprise her. When I burst through the front door she was watching TV, and I will never forget the look of ineffable delight on her face as she raced into my arms.
I was on a very tight schedule and a few minutes later I was climbing into my van. Suddenly I heard my mother shouting "Augie!" at the top of her lungs. She was standing at the top of the grassy hill overlooking the street outside our front door. I rolled down the window just in time to hear her shout, "You got chutzpah!"
It was a rare week indeed when my mother and I didn't talk at least once on the phone, and I even called her from a Greek island while on vacation even though it meant going to the local telephone exchange and spending a fortune to make the call.
It is said that time heals all wounds and I've found that this is true. But it comes with a cost. Several years ago I said to my brother Jon. "You know I don't think of Mom much anymore." "Neither do I," he sadly replied.
I now often must make a conscious effort to keep her memory alive and when I'm successful it also means experiencing the pain of just how much I still miss her. But I'm still glad I make the effort.
Words alone cannot even begin to express just how much you are loved and missed!