This page is about my Mom, June.
"Lonesome"
She was born on her parent's farm in 1934. The country doctor told her parents that she wouldn't live to be five years old, because she was born with three heart defects.The most major defect was a hole in the aorta, or main valve of the heart. She was what was
called a "blue baby" in those days.
She outlived the doctor's prediction, however. (Obviously, since I'm writing this today!)
Her school years were hard, she couldn't run and play like the others on days that she was
well enough to attend school. So she learned to read at an early age, and spent most of
her time quietly reading.
As a teenager, she heard about a doctor in Virginia who corrected heart defects
such as hers, and begged her parents to let her have the surgery. Her father refused, because
he was afraid she would die. He forbade the surgery. When she turned 18 in 1952, she signed
the papers and had the surgery. My grandfather walked up and down the road outside the
hospital the entire time until he heard that she was OK. The surgery was sucessful, and
she still wasn't able to run or do anything very stressful, but she could lead a pretty
normal life.
A note to this -- this surgery is now only performed on newborns, and then
only as a temporary measure. It is a shunt placed directly in the aorta that is removed
at a later time. They could not remove the shunt from my mother's heart without risk of
death, so as an adult she was always forced to see pediatric cardiologists.
After the surgery, she went to business college in Lynchburg, and after her graduation in 1955 she married my
father. She was told at the time by her doctor that she would never be able to have children, as the risk was just too great. But Mom had a dream, and she was a stubborn
woman. She wanted two children, a girl and a boy, and she was going to have them!!
Well, when she became pregnant with my brother, she had to have constant care, and they
restricted her weight gain so severely that she walked out of the hospital wearing a size 5
dress after his birth!! They told her NO MORE! But...of course you know I'm the girl, right?
My brother and I were both very premature, but normal.
Our growing up years with Mom and Dad were wonderful, we went to almost all the fifty states
at one time or another, taking two week road trips and camping. Mom took us to every historical
spot that she could find. When I compare stories with my friends about their
growing up years, I am amazed at all our parents did with us, and how rarely we did something
that wasn't as a family group.
As a teenager and young adult, my mother and I developed a very special closeness that I
think all young women develop as they start seeing things as a responsible adult. When I
married at 19, she told me I was too young but she would support me if that was my choice.
When my son Gregory was born, she realized that she was ready to be a grandmother, and took to
the role one hundred percent. They were as close as they could be and he would always share
his thoughts and feelings with her. She was there to help and support us when my husband
Greg died unexpectedly when he and I were 25, and little Greg was only 5. She babysat him
for me so I could work without worrying about him, and helped me in numerous ways. I have to
say that without her and my mother-in-law Shirley's support (I have a page dedicated to
Shirley also - she is still the great pillar of support for me today as she was then)
and love, I wouldn't have made it through that very dark time in my life.
When my grandmother became unable to take care of herself, my mother made all the arrangements
to have her moved to a good nursing home here and went everyday to care for her. She spent most
of her time taking care of all of us that she loved so dearly.
In 1989, my mother found a lump in her breast, but said nothing to anyone. She never liked to
complain...Her sister had had breast cancer, and had a radical mastectomy performed about the time
I was a teenager, but mom refused to go for mammagrams, she said she couldn't afford it. By late
1993, she was having pain in her chest and left leg. At that point she said something about it to
my father, and he took her to the doctor. They thought she had arthritis, because she did not
mention the lump. Finally in September of 1993 she told me about the lump, and I totally freaked out.
I took her to a well known cancer center, and they did a biopsy which showed that she had cancer.
Johnny, (my brother), and I were waiting in the waiting room when she came out and told us. We told her
we had to go outside to smoke a cigarette, and went out and cried in each other's arms. We didn't want
her to see how very afraid we were.
What followed was a very painful time for all of us, because the pain increased daily, and the test
results showed that the cancer was too extensive for anything but the most radical procedures. The pain
in her left leg was caused by the cancer eating away her thighbone to the point that she could not walk.
They decided to put a rod in her leg to support the remaining bone so that she would be able to walk again,
and then they were going to begin intense chemotherepy.
On the night before her surgery, Dad, Johnny, Gregory and I gathered in her hospital room to laugh and
joke, hug, and let her know just how much we loved her. The next morning early, I sent Gregory off to school,
picked up Dad and we went to the hospital. We went to mom's room and I hugged her until they came to get her
for the surgery. She was laughing and joking with the nurse as they helped her onto the stretcher.
Dad and I wondered around for hours, and when I would ask about Mom, they would say there wasn't any news.
Finally, it just seemed as if it had been too long to me, and I demanded to know how she was. They then told
us that there had been serious complications, and it would be quite a while.
Eventually, they took her to intensive care, and allowed us to see her, but she was in a coma. Her heart,
her poor old weak heart, had stopped during the surgery and when they revived her she had a stroke. Dad, Johnny
and I stayed at the hospital with her 24 hours a day except to go home for showers. Shirley would come to the
hospital and force me to eat, but I was so numbed by the pain of it all that I couldn't eat or sleep. The doctors
had told us that she had suffered major brain damage from the stroke and would probably not live more that several
days longer. I sat by her bedside holding her hand and crying. I thought of all the times she had been there for me
and how I wished she knew I was there beside her. I reflected on her strong faith in God, and how she had raised me
to feel the same. I knew that she would go to heaven, but was selfish enough to wish that she could stay on this earth
just a little bit longer...
Someone told me once that people don't like to die if anyone is with them, that they will hold on to keep that
person from feeling additional pain, and I guess its true. On the fourth day after her surgery and the day before
Mother's Day, I left the room for just a moment. When I returned, she was gone.
We buried her in the her family plot near her mother and father. I go visit her grave when I
can, although even years later the pain is very strong.
This is the point where I tell you why I have dedicated this page to her. She was the gatherer of all her
family's stories, because she was the child who could never go out and play, so she spent all her time with her
mother and aunts learning about our family history. As an adult, she began tracing the roots of the family by
going to the State Library and compiling all the records. She loved computers, and amassed quite a database of
genealogy information until she became too sick to get out of bed. She also spent alot of time before she got so
sick playing her piano, and singing the songs she loved - one of which is playing now.
Her computer and all her records are still at my Dad's house, where one of these days soon I am going to go collect
them and put them on this page. Until now, I haven't had the strength to do that as I know that I will be reminded
of her in a million little ways...and I will cry.
So know as this page takes shape and form, and becomes a tool for others to dig in the family garden, that it is
truly a labor of love begun by the one person who made it all possible for me...and excuse any errors I might make as I go along cause its hard to see when you are crying...
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This page is about my Mom, June.
"Lonesome"
She was born on her parent's farm in 1934. The country doctor told her parents that she wouldn't live to be five years old, because she was born with three heart defects.The most major defect was a hole in the aorta, or main valve of the heart. She was what was
called a "blue baby" in those days.
She outlived the doctor's prediction, however. (Obviously, since I'm writing this today!)
Her school years were hard, she couldn't run and play like the others on days that she was
well enough to attend school. So she learned to read at an early age, and spent most of
her time quietly reading.
As a teenager, she heard about a doctor in Virginia who corrected heart defects
such as hers, and begged her parents to let her have the surgery. Her father refused, because
he was afraid she would die. He forbade the surgery. When she turned 18 in 1952, she signed
the papers and had the surgery. My grandfather walked up and down the road outside the
hospital the entire time until he heard that she was OK. The surgery was sucessful, and
she still wasn't able to run or do anything very stressful, but she could lead a pretty
normal life.
A note to this -- this surgery is now only performed on newborns, and then
only as a temporary measure. It is a shunt placed directly in the aorta that is removed
at a later time. They could not remove the shunt from my mother's heart without risk of
death, so as an adult she was always forced to see pediatric cardiologists.
After the surgery, she went to business college in Lynchburg, and after her graduation in 1955 she married my
father. She was told at the time by her doctor that she would never be able to have children, as the risk was just too great. But Mom had a dream, and she was a stubborn
woman. She wanted two children, a girl and a boy, and she was going to have them!!
Well, when she became pregnant with my brother, she had to have constant care, and they
restricted her weight gain so severely that she walked out of the hospital wearing a size 5
dress after his birth!! They told her NO MORE! But...of course you know I'm the girl, right?
My brother and I were both very premature, but normal.
Our growing up years with Mom and Dad were wonderful, we went to almost all the fifty states
at one time or another, taking two week road trips and camping. Mom took us to every historical
spot that she could find. When I compare stories with my friends about their
growing up years, I am amazed at all our parents did with us, and how rarely we did something
that wasn't as a family group.
As a teenager and young adult, my mother and I developed a very special closeness that I
think all young women develop as they start seeing things as a responsible adult. When I
married at 19, she told me I was too young but she would support me if that was my choice.
When my son Gregory was born, she realized that she was ready to be a grandmother, and took to
the role one hundred percent. They were as close as they could be and he would always share
his thoughts and feelings with her. She was there to help and support us when my husband
Greg died unexpectedly when he and I were 25, and little Greg was only 5. She babysat him
for me so I could work without worrying about him, and helped me in numerous ways. I have to
say that without her and my mother-in-law Shirley's support (I have a page dedicated to
Shirley also - she is still the great pillar of support for me today as she was then)
and love, I wouldn't have made it through that very dark time in my life.
When my grandmother became unable to take care of herself, my mother made all the arrangements
to have her moved to a good nursing home here and went everyday to care for her. She spent most
of her time taking care of all of us that she loved so dearly.
In 1989, my mother found a lump in her breast, but said nothing to anyone. She never liked to
complain...Her sister had had breast cancer, and had a radical mastectomy performed about the time
I was a teenager, but mom refused to go for mammagrams, she said she couldn't afford it. By late
1993, she was having pain in her chest and left leg. At that point she said something about it to
my father, and he took her to the doctor. They thought she had arthritis, because she did not
mention the lump. Finally in September of 1993 she told me about the lump, and I totally freaked out.
I took her to a well known cancer center, and they did a biopsy which showed that she had cancer.
Johnny, (my brother), and I were waiting in the waiting room when she came out and told us. We told her
we had to go outside to smoke a cigarette, and went out and cried in each other's arms. We didn't want
her to see how very afraid we were.
What followed was a very painful time for all of us, because the pain increased daily, and the test
results showed that the cancer was too extensive for anything but the most radical procedures. The pain
in her left leg was caused by the cancer eating away her thighbone to the point that she could not walk.
They decided to put a rod in her leg to support the remaining bone so that she would be able to walk again,
and then they were going to begin intense chemotherepy.
On the night before her surgery, Dad, Johnny, Gregory and I gathered in her hospital room to laugh and
joke, hug, and let her know just how much we loved her. The next morning early, I sent Gregory off to school,
picked up Dad and we went to the hospital. We went to mom's room and I hugged her until they came to get her
for the surgery. She was laughing and joking with the nurse as they helped her onto the stretcher.
Dad and I wondered around for hours, and when I would ask about Mom, they would say there wasn't any news.
Finally, it just seemed as if it had been too long to me, and I demanded to know how she was. They then told
us that there had been serious complications, and it would be quite a while.
Eventually, they took her to intensive care, and allowed us to see her, but she was in a coma. Her heart,
her poor old weak heart, had stopped during the surgery and when they revived her she had a stroke. Dad, Johnny
and I stayed at the hospital with her 24 hours a day except to go home for showers. Shirley would come to the
hospital and force me to eat, but I was so numbed by the pain of it all that I couldn't eat or sleep. The doctors
had told us that she had suffered major brain damage from the stroke and would probably not live more that several
days longer. I sat by her bedside holding her hand and crying. I thought of all the times she had been there for me
and how I wished she knew I was there beside her. I reflected on her strong faith in God, and how she had raised me
to feel the same. I knew that she would go to heaven, but was selfish enough to wish that she could stay on this earth
just a little bit longer...
Someone told me once that people don't like to die if anyone is with them, that they will hold on to keep that
person from feeling additional pain, and I guess its true. On the fourth day after her surgery and the day before
Mother's Day, I left the room for just a moment. When I returned, she was gone.
We buried her in the her family plot near her mother and father. I go visit her grave when I
can, although even years later the pain is very strong.
This is the point where I tell you why I have dedicated this page to her. She was the gatherer of all her
family's stories, because she was the child who could never go out and play, so she spent all her time with her
mother and aunts learning about our family history. As an adult, she began tracing the roots of the family by
going to the State Library and compiling all the records. She loved computers, and amassed quite a database of
genealogy information until she became too sick to get out of bed. She also spent alot of time before she got so
sick playing her piano, and singing the songs she loved - one of which is playing now.
Her computer and all her records are still at my Dad's house, where one of these days soon I am going to go collect
them and put them on this page. Until now, I haven't had the strength to do that as I know that I will be reminded
of her in a million little ways...and I will cry.
So know as this page takes shape and form, and becomes a tool for others to dig in the family garden, that it is
truly a labor of love begun by the one person who made it all possible for me...and excuse any errors I might make as I go along cause its hard to see when you are crying...
Home
Sign Yahoo Guestbook For Credit Information, please see my Credits.
You are vistor number I last worked on this page on December 29, 2002
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