Memories Of Mom Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

No memories of Mom being old and wrinkled, she was taken
at the age of 61, alive and young at heart, a wonderful
woman, an incredible human being, unafraid to laugh or cry.

A being filled with the soul of delight, waltzing through
poverty and heartache with a smile in her heart so as not
to let her eight children know how much she really hurt
inside.

Never complaining, quietly keeping everything to herself,
hurting alone and lonely deep within the abyss of her
little life.

Knowing her has been a privilege, having her for my Mother
an honor, never lightly taken.

Indebted to her forever for bringing me into this world and
universe to write through my soul about everything I've seen
and experienced.

Now sixty-three, I hope my children, my sons, will someday
feel the same way of me, their Mother.

A shining example for her seven daughters and son, Mom built
a family amidst the poverty and decadence of an unwilling
spouse and father failing to do his duty.

Strength of character, strong by faith, led by God to teach
against all that was immoral and unethical to her children,
giving us all to God, because she could not handle the job
alone.

Forging a pathway where there was none, she raised us all as
best she could and when she died, we know she went to her
reward in heaven.