My cousin, Deana, and myself at a picnic.

Our New Normal

 

            Following Dad’s surgery, I remember playing in the new house and Mom telling me not to talk to Dad. You see every movement he made, every time he spoke, he was in pain. I know he watched me playing, but I don’t think we said much, if anything.

            I remember Mom feeding us both and herself at dinner. My mother made a joke of feeding me first, dad second, and herself third. It was a weird little ritual that didn’t last long.

            I recall both me and my father lying on two couches, and we each had a stick we would use to alert mom when the phone rang, or when we needed something. From the basement, my mother worked for my uncles seaming together the toes of socks.

            Mom was the bread-winner now that my father could not work. She suddenly had all the responsibility thrust on her. It wasn’t anything she ever wanted, but without my father to consult with, (remember that it caused dad pain to talk) she had the whole family to look after and bills to pay. She was our support, our encourager, our comforter, and our everything. All this and more, and she didn’t complain.

            Mom often said she had to grow up fast and learn to talk not only for herself, but also for us.

            I realize now that my mother must have been depressed and worried at times, probably a lot of the time, but she hid it from me.

On Dale’s last day of high school, he went without crutches! That was a great day for us all!

            Dale had a dream of going to college and as with everything else, my mom found a way. She adapted two bags for Dale to carry with his crutches, (Dale still could not walk far without crutches) and my grandfather and Hazel’s husband paid for a typewriter. In the fall of 1971, we said goodbye to my brother.

So, from here on, it was basically just the three of us.