Mom’s Poem

Requiem for a Tough Lady

By Janene Bromley Piecuch

I met my mother, Wilma Pickett Bromley, when I was eight years old, and it was love at first sight for me.

She died recently in Star at age ninety-three. She was a tough, tough lady—that’s how women were in the “Greatest Generation.” I’m more of a dreamer, with a heart that’s broken easily and heals slowly.

She had just married my dad in Seattle when we met. I was from his first marriage. It may have taken a little longer for her to return my love, as I was sick with malnutrition and viral pneumonia. I was taken to a doctor, who advised that I should be put in a hospital and allowed to die there. That made my new mom mad. She picked me up and said, “If that’s how you feel, I darned well won’t leave her here.”

On the way home, she told me, “Hospital people don’t know everything. I’m a farm girl, I know how to make you well.”

I thought she was an angel. 

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Janene Bromley Piecuch

About Janene Bromley Piecuch

Janene Bromely Piecuch lives two hours west of Seattle in Sequim, Washington, a “sweet little town” famous for growing lavender. She likes the weather and politics better in Idaho, as well as the yoga classes and fitness gyms in the Treasure Valley, but “the moss growing under my feet calls me back home.”

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