Beyond the Byline: Here today, gone forever tomorrow

As I sat and chatted with Helen Bogdan this week, my mind kept drifting.

Helen is 95 and she received a wonderful makeover, courtesy of Visiting Angels home care agency and Jennifer’s Hair Studio of Peckville.

Helen received a new hair style, make-up and a manicure.

She looked beautiful.

My mind was drifting because at the mere mention of Mother’s Day, I naturally start thinking about my dear mom who was called away on May 10, 1968.

My mom — Elizabeth Kraszewski O’Boyle — was 42 when she passed away.

Helen Bogdan is 95.

My mom would be 95 if she were still with us.

As usual, the whole thing got me thinking and wondering and, as it is every day, missing my mom.

Today, May 9, is Mother’s Day. But Friday, May 9, 1968, was the last day I saw my mom. The last day we talked. The last day we hugged and the last time she kissed my cheek.

Saturday, May 10, 1968, was to be a normal day. I was getting ready for baseball practice. My dad was at work. The night before we had visited my mom in the hospital, where for the past several years she had spent a lot of time.

On this Saturday, as I was walking out the door, the telephone rang. I ran back in and answered.

“May I speak to Mr. O’Boyle,” a man’s voice asked on the other end.

I told the caller my dad was at work, could I take a message.

“Is this his son?” he asked, and I answered in the affirmative.

“This is Dr. Stuccio at Wyoming Valley Hospital,” he said. “I’m sorry, but your mother has expired.”

I honestly didn’t know what that meant, so I asked him to explain.

“Your mother died this morning. I’m very sorry,” he said.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I dropped the phone and ran across Reynolds Street to Kraynack’s house where Ecky and Mrs. K were having breakfast in their kitchen. I told them about the phone call — about my mom dying. They consoled me and called my dad at work.

I will never forget seeing my dad as he got out of his car. He was an emotional wreck. I had never seen him cry before. We were both distraught. The reality of what we probably knew would eventually happen, had begun to set in.

We went into our home, which suddenly had seemed to already be missing something — someone — and we cried.

On this day before Mother’s Day in 1968 — May 10, 1968 — our world had come crashing down. For whatever reasons, our lives were changed forever. On this day that was to be just another typical day in our lives — dad at work, me at baseball practice, together visiting mom later — had become the day that would change our lives forever.

All of our “days before” were gone now.

My mom was 42 years old when she died. My dad was 45. I was 17. This was a young family with many more memories to make. And now, it was all gone — forever.

This was the year I was graduating high school. My life was ahead of me. My parents would be there to guide me; to help me make decisions.

And as I traveled through life, I would be there for them. To run errands, to help around the house, to do, well, whatever they asked. The years ahead were to be plenty and they were to be filled with family things, just like we always had up until this day — May 10, 1968.

That’s why I caution you who have your parents still around. Cherish all of these “days before” and enjoy each and every one of them.

Don’t complain when they ask you to do this, or go there, or take them wherever they ask. Just do it. And do it with a smile on your face and joy in your heart.

Remember that each day — any day — could be your “day before.”

I know I have said this before and I’m sure it is true of all who have lost a loved one — not a day has gone by that I have not thought about my mom or my dad since they have passed. They have remained with me always and, in many ways, I find comfort in that.

But you can be sure that I would prefer to have them here with me. I wish I could pick up the phone, dial their number and hear their voices again. I long to be able to take them to the grocery store, the doctor’s office or to a baseball game.

On this day, remember my story of the day before Mother’s Day, 1968. Cherish your days with your moms and dads and make every “day before” count.

Value the days you have with them, because you never know when your “day before” will come.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the mother’s out there. You are the most special of all.

My mom taught me so much in our short time together.

And she is with me always.