A LIFE STORY

For my Mother and Children

Written by Terri Nucilli

 

 

          I have a very important responsibility to my three children.  I need to help them realize that the chronically ill 64-year-old woman they call “Mamaw” was once a healthy, vibrant person.  Mamaw has lived a full life that they are unaware of.  I know this because I call her “Mom.”  Although it takes some careful thought, I am able to recall vivid images of her in healthier times.  It’s of great importance to me that my children be given information about her.  Information that will help make their memories of her well rounded.  This is my role as her daughter and their mother.  I will share with my children all the stories that were told to me about her life.

 

I will tell them how when she was born the doctor stopped by the one room schoolhouse to deliver the good news.  Dr. Tuckwilla had come to let Mamaw’s four older brothers and four old sisters know they had a new sister.  One of her brothers said that the doctor and his black bag should never come back to their house.  The doctor asked why he felt that way.  Mamaw’s brother said he believed the doctor hid babies in that black bag and that each time he brought that black bag to their house, they ended up with a new baby.

 

 

I will tell them the stories of her natural athleticism.  She loves the games of basketball and softball.   I will tell them how their Mamaw was the one sought after by area boys to be on their team.  Even though she had six brothers, she was the family athlete.  I will share stories about her glorified basketball career.  Her team, led by the strength of her scoring, never lost a game.  They went undefeated for six years.  She has often said, “If they gave scholarships for that in my day I could have gone to college.”

 

I will tell the story of her being the queen of her senior prom.  She thought it was very funny.  She had always viewed herself as a tomboy.  She felt out of place in her high heels and crinoline.  I will show them the pictures of her with the visibly pained expression on her face because she was so uncomfortable in her clothes during her reign.

 

I will tell them how she and their Papaw eloped in Oakland, MD.  She spent much of their early marriage living at her parents’ farmhouse because Papaw had been drafted into the U. S. Army and was stationed in a different state.  They were only able to see each other on occasional weekends.

 

I will tell them how as a young woman she went to work in a factory.  She worked for over thirty years at Westinghouse, now known as North American Phillips.  She and Papaw are both hard workers and always imparted on my sisters and I the value of a job being well done.  She worked very hard in our home also.  I will tell them how tidy she kept the house.  I will remind them of the homemade foods they love originating in her kitchen.  It brought her joy to know others liked her cooking.  

 

I will tell them how she eagerly anticipated each of their arrivals.  She was present the day they were born.  I will let them know that the word proud doesn’t begin to describe her excitement.  When they were little babies she couldn’t wait for opportunities to baby-sit them.  She was always willing to drop anything to be of a service to her grandchildren.

 

They need to know this and more.  They need to see their Mamaw as a whole person.  The woman they now see is just a part of the whole picture.  The woman they see is in and out of Fairmont General Hospital on a much too frequent basis.  The woman they see is in need of weekly blood transfusions and continuous oxygen.  Allowing them to see and know only this part is a disservice to her.  She’s lived a whole life.  My children and I have fortunately been a part of it.  They may not yet be ready for her life story.  Someday they will be ready.  This paper will be waiting for them.  Hopefully, I too will be waiting to share more.