A True Inspirational Story of My Life

By Louanne McIntosh
lmcintos@julian.uwo.ca

I was born the third oldest of eight children.
My father was an alcoholic. When he got drunk,
he would yell and scream obscenities, break
things and put holes in the wall with his fists.
We Would always rock ourselves to sleep with our
fingers in our ears and hum so that we could not
hear him verbally abuse our mother.

My mother was absolutely everything you could
ever wish for in a mom. She lived her life for
her children and took pride in doing so. She
owned two outfits so that she could give
her children everything, she always went without.

My parents wedding anniversary was approaching,
and because they had no money, they both agreed
not to buy anything for each other. My mom
being the way, she was, saved all her pennies
and bought my father a couple of tools anyway.
Many years later, my mother told me of that day
and how he was moved to tears when he was given
those tools. He grabbed a couple of empty beer
cases and left. When he returned, instead of a
present for mom, he walked through the door with
a half case of beer. He sat on the couch and
drank until he passed out.

My father would leave for days, and when he did
come home it was always late at night and he was
always drunk. You could feel the tension in the
air. He would wake us and tell us how he killed
a man, and being so young, we believed him. Still
to this day, I remember believing I saw a knife
in his coat pocket with blood on it. My mother
was there to confort us and call the police to
get him out so her children could be safe. She
never showed her pain in front of us, but made
sure her children were always taken care of.

When mom was pregnant with my youngest sister,
(her sixth child) she did finally show her pain.
She thought she could take no more and had no
way out. She told us years later how one night
she stood at the end of the driveway, waiting
for the next transport truck to come along, so
she could throw herself in front of if. It was
not the other five children that were in the
house fast asleep that stopped her she cried.
But the life that was inside of her that she
could not take away.

Mom went on to have this beautiful daughter and
another son. When she was pregnant with her
eight child, she had to be put in the hospital
for most of her nine months. She bled almost
through her whole pregnancy. Doctors told her
that she would probably lose the baby. One day
the doctors came in and advised that the best
thing to do was to take the baby, for if it did
survive it would be deformed or mentally challenged
but mom told them, no matter what was wrong with
her child, she would love it and do everthing
possible for her baby. She would not let the
doctors take her child from her.

On March 1, 1970 her baby boy Matthew was born
with a double hair lip and cleft pallet. Mom
held her tiny baby in her arms with calm awe and
said, "You beautiful child, I will do everthing
possible to make your life as normal and happy
as possible". And she kept that promise and
did just that. she travelled back and forth from
Windsor, ON to Sick Children's hosptial in
Toronto, On for surgery after surgery for him.
While at the same time putting up with an
alchoholic husband and trying to find friends and
family to care for her other seven children
while she was away.

One day, while at the doctors for a check up for
herself, they found a lump in mom's groin. The
doctors sent her to London, On to have it
removed. With great hesitation she went. They
removed a benign tumor the size of a grapefruit.
The following day when the doctors came to check
on her, she was dressed, bags packed and sitting
in a chair. She told them she had to get back
home to her children. the doctors advised her
she was much to sick to leave, but she had no
one at home for her children. With no husband
to care enough to pick her up, she called a cab
and crying and in pain took a train home to her
family.

When my youngest brother was five, he and mom
just returned from one of his biggest surgeries.
He was stitched from the top of his nose, down
and across his lip from one cheek to the other.
My father who was not living with us at the time
was visiting. All drunk and smelling like a
brewery, he pick up his youngest child, sat
him on his lap, said a quick hello and put him
back down.

A short time later, I walked by the bathroom to
find my five year old brother looking at his
sewn up face in the mirror, crying and saying,
"My daddy didn't even notice". That was the
day I lost all the respect I had left for my
father.

While babysitting my brothers and sisters one
day, my father showed up with his girlfriend
and her three kids. The kids were jumping all
over him calling him daddy, while my two younger
brothers sat across the room watching with tears
in their eyes.

Not long after that day, we never saw him again,
not a phone call, birthday card, NOTHING. We
all went on to live our lives and mom gave all
eight of her children all her love and full
attention and everthing we could ever want or
need.

My aunt and mom would go from farm to farm in
a tiny Volkswagen and ask farmers for the fruits
and vegetables that had been damaged by hail.
She was on mothers allowance only because she
could not leave eight children home alone nor
could she afford or find a sitter who would
watch eight kids. So she made girths for
horses in her home for .50 a piece just so we
could have the things other children had. There
were many times all we had too eat was a big
pan of corn-on-the-cob or fried potato sandwiches.
This would hurt my mother because she had nothing
else to give us at the time.

We grew, some of us married and went on to our
new lives, always keeping in touch with each
other and mom.

It was Halloween night 1989 and my youngest
brother Matthew, now 19 years old had not come
home all night. Mom phone me in London and
asked if I had heard from him, or if he headed
my way to please let her know right away. She
was terrified, for Matthew never spent a night
away from home without telling her where he
would be. He was a good kid, he never drank or
did drugs. He loved mom with all his heart and
only ever wanted to make her happy. they were
the best of friends, and he always talked about
one day when he would be able to buy her a house
and a car.

That Halloween night at 10pm, while my five year
old daughter was sound asleep with her bowl of
candy next to her bed, my brother who lived with
us in the basement watching tv and my husband
and I just settling in for the night, the phone
rang. My husband answered it, and by the way
her spoke, I knew something was terribly wrong.
He turned to me and said we must go to Windsor
right away, they found Matthew, he was in the
hospital. I somehow new by the way he looked at
me that my baby brother was not alright. I sat
on the floor crying he's dead isn't he? My
husband pulled me from the floor he kept telling
me he's fine, we have to go.

My brother Gary heard the commotion and came
running. While I was getting my baby girl
ready to go in the middle of the night, I
heard my husband say to my brother, "I'm so
sorry Gary, we have to go, your brother is
dead". I remember everything going black
and pounding on my husbands back calling him
a liar, while my brother held my daughter and
cried. My husband grabbed my arms and with
his loving eyes looked at me, and said, "I'm
sorry, I could'nt tell you."

The two hour drive felt like a life time. When
we arrived at the house it was packed with
people. My sister-in-law told us that Matthew
took his own life. He tied a rope around his
neck and jumped from a tree. He died instantly.
Two young kids taking a walk found him and
thought it was a Halloween prank. At that
moment I went into shock. No way, he was a
good kid, happy, outgoing, why? why? How could
he do this to us?

I need to see my mom, I need to hold her. She
pulled up in the driveway with my sister,
returning from the hospital. They had to treat
her high blood preasure. She seemed calm
although her eyes were bright red from crying.
We just looked at each other and hugged. There
were no words.

Later when we were talking, I told mom I expected
to see her on her hands and knees screaming his
name over and over. That is when I found out that
there had been an article in the news paper about
a young mans body that had been found, he was
wearing Nike running shoes and a yellow and white
striped shirt and a pair of jeans. The police
were seeking the publics help, for anyone with
information to please come forward. A friend
of my moms read the article and phoned her,
thinking it may be Matthew.

While my brother went to the hospital to identify
the body, my mom tore the house apart, she was
determined to find that yellow and white striped
shirt Matthew always wore. She never did.

The next few days went by in slow motion. I sat
on the porch in disbelief, waiting for Matthew
to come walking up the driveway. It was'nt until
I saw his peacefull body laying in the coffin
that I realized, he was never coming back.

We burried our baby brother, not knowing why he
would or could do such a horrible thing.

I lay next to my mom on her bed uanable to sleep
and held her hand while we cried together.
"Mom, I don't understand why this has happened
to us". Her words would forever be with me
when she turned to me and said, "Remember when
Matthew was born, the doctors told me he would
probably die. Well he didn't, he was born
a beautiful baby boy who needed me, and during
the most troubled time of my life, when I was
ready to give up on everything, I NEEDED HIM.
God gave me this precious child so that I would
go on living and take care of him. Now my
family has grown, I have beautiful children and
grandchildren. God must have said "HE WAS
MINE, I GAVE HIM TO YOU WHILE YOU NEEDED HIM,
YOU DO NOT NEED HIM ANYMORE, HIS JOB ON EARTH
IS DONE, SO NOW I NEED HIM BACK".

Those words struck me like a lightening bolt.
Here my mother who was grieving the loss of her
baby boy, made her daugther feel comfort by
finding a meaning to her sons life and death.
I knew then, we would all be okay. We never
did find out why Matthew took his own life,
we just all came up with our own conclusions
so that we could go on.

I returned to London, and phoned my mom almost
everyday. I loved to here her voice, she always
had the right thing to say and always made
everything make sense.

One day the phone rang again. It was my older
sister. "Moms in the hospital the are running
tests. Her platletts were so low and she was
covered in bruises". Later that night, my heart
pounding so hard with fear, I talked to my mom.
"It's probably nothing Louanne, go to bed and
sleep, I will call you tomorrow when they have
the results".

The next day she phoned, the tone in her voice
had changed. "Hi, hon, she said, the doctors
came in. I have Leukemia. Everything went
black. "Mom, what happens now" . All she said
was everthing will be okay.

Weeks then months passed, while we wathched mom
suffer through kemo and loss of her hair, no
veins left to take blood or put in shunts for
treatment.

Then one day when my younger sister was in her
eight month of pregnancy with twins, we were
told mom was in remission. We were elated.
Mom was there when her baby daughter had two
baby daughters.

One month later, the bruises were back. I was
visiting from London, when mom showed them to
me. I had a hard time going back home that
weekend, because I feared the worst.

Mom was back in the hospital the next day, and
the day after that she passed away. No suffering,
no pain, she just slipped away peacefully and
quietly with all her children at her side.

After the funeral, while at my sisters house,
I was trying to understand how my mom had
endured so much pain in her life and was finally
so happy. Then she suffers such a huge cancer
and dies at the young age of 56.

My oldest sister (so much like my mom) hugged me
and said:

"Mom was tired Louanne, so many things have
happened to her in her life. She could not
have taken anymore. She lost a husband, to
alcohol, a child to suicide, she raised seven
other beautiful children and watched so much
of there pain. God new she could take no more,
that is why he came to get her. She is with
her baby son now. Now she can rest. No more
worries, no more pain."

We all went on with our own families, and all are
very close, something our mom taught us and wanted
from us. We miss he and our brother with all
our hearts, but we all know they are both okay
and so will we be.

Here is something I wrote after my brother
died that describes our family:

OUR FAMILY IS LIKE A CHAIN, AND LIKE ALL CHAINS,
THEY ARE HELD TOGETHER WITH A CLASP. GOD GAVE
OUR MOM THE HONOUR OF BEING THAT CLASP.
SOMETIMES THAT CHAIN GOT TUGGED, SOMETIMES
GENTLY, SOMETIMES VERY HARD, BUT THAT CLASP
HELD WITH ALL ITS MIGHT. WELL ONE DAY THAT
CHAIN DID BREAK, A LINK FELL AWAY, BUT THAT
CHAIN CAME TOGETHER AND MENDED, BUT IT WAS
NEVER THE SAME. THAT ONE LINK NEVER FORGOTTEN.
ONE DAY MY MOM WILL GIVE HER JOB OF BEING
THAT CLASP BACK TO GOD, AND GOD WILL REUNITE
EVERYONE OF THOSE LINKS, THEN GOD WILL BE
OUR CLASP.