Tuesday, July 18, 2006

A Rose Petal Has Fallen

There are times when there does not seem to be a way to put into words how deeply you feel. This is one of those times when there are neither enough nor the correct words to express deeply felt emotions.

A friend gave me this, author unknown. It says it better than I can.

A Mother's Love

A mother's love! What can compare with it! Of all things on earth, it comes nearest to divine love in heaven.

A mother's love means a life's devotion - and sometimes a life's sacrifice - with but one thought, one hope and one feeling, that her children will grow up healthy and strong, free from evil habits and able to provide for themselves. Her sole wish is that they may do their part like men and women, avoid dangers and pitfalls, and when dark hours come, trust in Providence to give them strength, patience and courage to bear up bravely.

Happy is the mother when her heart's wish is answered, and happy are sons and daughters when they can feel that they have contributed to her noble purpose, and in some measure, repaid her unceasing, unwavering love and devotion.

My Mother-in-law led a very interesting as well as extremely challenging life. She was born in Ukraine (Read about "Ukrainian Persecution and russification") and told us many stories about her life there, One was when, as a young woman during World War II, she walked many miles from their village to a city and back to get food for her and her father, who was very ill. It took her most of the day, but if she hadn't, he most likely would have died.

Even after the War, getting food was often a challenge. Perhaps that is why she was an amazing cook. I recall going to her house after the family had returned from a two-week trip to visit family out of state. Without a trip to the store, within no more than an hour of their return, she had a full meal on the table, seemingly created from nothing.
She could make pyrohy better than anyone. I learned so much from her but could never match her skills.

Mama had many other talents as well. She loved music and was self taught on the piano. She could draw almost anything. But, when it came to gardening, she could really create magic. Give her a twig and she would grow a tree. Give her a peach pit and soon there would be enough peaches for marmalade. Mama literally had hundreds of roses, all started under glass jars and grown with tender loving care. The soil of her last garden was mainly clay. She dug and composted and dug some more. For many years she maintained that house and garden on her own with more strength and fortitude than I will ever have.

Mama is at peace now.

"Vichnaya Pam'yat"
(Ever Remembered)

Mstyslaw (Corrine)
Lillian (Gerry)
Tanya (John)
Taras (Jill)
Natalie & Nicole

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