- My Hero – My Mother – Wanda McGahee
By Melissa Garza
With Mother’s Day fast approaching, I’d like to take this time to honor my mom. Without question, she is the shining light that led me through the darkness and the strength that empowered me to hold on even when letting go seemed easier.
Ms. Wanda Wdowiak was born on November 22, 1949. She was the second of four children to a meek and mild Polish Navy man named
Walter and Phyllis, a strict French mother who worked fulltime well before it was custom for a woman to do so.
Sadly, Wanda’s younger brother Walter Jr. died of crib death before she was born. She then had two younger sisters. Often the family
would go to picnics and barbecues together. They would go to the drive-in with their parents and like most families they would attend church on Sundays. She often recalls how her father would say his prayers in Polish as he spoke in broken English. Whenever she relays her childhood tales to me, I think of old sitcoms like “Father Knows Best,” or “The Adventures of Ozzy and Harriet.”
On her 14th birthday, her childhood perceptions changed dramatically. It started off as a normal day. She sat in her 8th grade class on a Friday afternoon. It was midday when she found out that the President of the United States had been shot. This tragic event impacted her in more ways than one. Her father Walter had been friends and acquaintances with much of the Kennedy family. Her father had the utmost respect for the President. As a daddy’s girl and a young American, my mother too idolized the President. Going forward, her birthday was no longer just associated with being close (or sometimes on) Thanksgiving.
Soon, she found a love for literature – most specifically Shakespeare. She could recite after one reading. The artistic nature that had always lived within my mother blossomed as she found something that called to her soul.
After graduation, she found a job working at a factory which cleaned uniforms. It was her first job outside of a few days she worked in a tobacco field where she had been denied water. When a computer replaced her at the factory, she felt what many young adults feel – lost. She didn’t have a plan and decided to join the Navy. She called her father for guidance, and he got her a job at the toy factory he worked at, Milton Bradley (now Hasbro).
It was there that she met my father. He was 10 years her senior, a fast talker and a great liar. At 21, she married him and had my sister Rena right away. My brother Geno was born in 1974, and I – the baby – arrived on August 23, 1979. We lived in a 2 story fire-engine red house that my grandfather built on 9 Letendre Avenue in Ludlow MA.
Growing up, I saw my mom do everything. If you were to look up “Super Mom” in the dictionary, her picture should be there. She cooked, cleaned, did the shopping and all of the chores. She helped out with all of our homework and came to every school event – even extra-curricular ones like making pancakes for my class.
When I was 8, she took on a 24 hour job of being a foster mother. She sometimes had upwards of 10 additional children in our home, yet never let anyone feel left out. Despite cooking complicated and delicious meals for 14 on a small stove (and at times a hot plate), she would make additional dishes for me as I was a very picky (and admittedly selfish) person.
Without detailing all endured, it is safe to say that my father was a sociopath. Most women would have escaped – run away without looking back to save themselves. My mother did not. She saved her children by sacrificing herself.
Despite the level of insanity, we (my brother, sister, and self) all knew we could go to my mother for anything. She was our salvation and our evidence that sanity, strength, selflessness and compassion not only existed but could live so completely in one person.
My mother exemplifies what a woman and more importantly a mother should be. She has always and continues to be there for me providing me insight, honesty and love. She never judges and is always just there ready to listen and help in any way she can.
When I have a child, if I can be 1/10th the mother she is, I will know that I’ve done well.
To my mother, I thank you for all you are and all you have done. You are the most amazing woman I know and I am forever grateful for you.
A Poem of Devotion:
Moments of regret
forever remain
in the heart that developed
in the one I once lacked
Execuses aren’t erasers
state of mind can’t explain
Age cannont justify
and apologies can’t take away
Misplaced rage
in a dark room
in a darker house
when the enemy was too fierce
Cruel complexity
aimed at you
in the wrong direction
re-victimized without thought
Beloved target
good intentions
destroyed by actions
living down to the names he’d yell
Undeserved forgiveness
saved my soul and preserved my heart
know I will never fully forgive
the pain that to you I caused
an understanding daughter
a well deserved friend
instead you received the blame
that was always meant for him
an apology stronger than this
is owed for all you endured
for my father’s insanity
and the endless pain he caused
overpowered by hatred and fear
he stole any good I could havebeen
I wish I had been stronger
I wish I didn’t let him win
Worthy of so much better
the best the world could give
so many things to take back
things that kill me to admit
You are the reason
that I survived the past
that I have let myself find happiness
that I kept holding on
You had always been
the one I loved most
the one I idealized
the one I strived to be
I am sorry for the times
as long ago as they may be
for all the pain I caused you
when I hadn’t yet become me
I was a messed up child
afraid of my own shadow
too cowardly to claim
the fear as my own
as age, wisdom and love
bring a semblance of normalcy
and contentment with emotion
and realization of my own past
you need to know
the power you have within
the amount of good you’ve shown
has been recognized and learned
you own a part of my soul
that becomes clearer as time goes on
you are the gracious mother I would want to be
and the woman that I strive to show my husband
thank you for loving me
when I couldn’t love myself
and for forgiving me
when I couldn’t stand the reeflection
thank you for teaching me
far more than any book could
and for showing me the type of strength
that istill long to learn
