Had my mother, Lucille lived, she would have been 94 years old on June 23. I miss her voice. I spoke with her at least four times each week during the last fifteen years of her life; I miss her voice. I was about ten years old when I first realized how soothing was her voice and how easy it was to fall asleep as my mother talked with others in a nearby room. I just thought of something...my heavenly eternity would be hearing my mother's voice in the other room and eternal hell would be hearing Rush Limbaugh's voice.
I urge each reader to consider making that telephone call to a special love one on a regular basis. Text messages may be a method of 'staying-in-touch' but it cannot soothe the soul like the sound of a dear love one's voice.
Recently, I have struggled with feelings of depression. I understand the catalyst for this melancholy mood; I am seventy-four years old and I count far more relatives who have passed than those who remain. This coming Sunday, the Roustio Clan will gather at Shilo, Illinois for the 64th Annual Roustio Family Reunion. Do the math, I attended most of those reunions beginning at age ten. Oh my, the changing faces boggles the mind.
I can usually shake these emotional lows when I ponder upon the strength of my late mother-in law (Vi Bischof) who buried her husband at 54, and lost two sons when they were in their early forties; what strength this woman displayed over the thirty-plus years she carried those heartaches. I also gain an uplifted feeling when I remember that my own mother had to 'push-on' without her sweetheart (my father) the last nineteen years before her death. And every day, I am mindful of three wonderful lady friends in Jacksonville who lost their husbands prematurely and each day they demonstrate joyous spirits. I thank each of them for serving as models and I pray for similar strength.
Happy birthday, Mom.
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