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COLUMN BY MATT PRANGER |
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My Mom: An Irish angel with a heart of gold
posted 03/16/2007
Six weeks ago Mom died. Initially I felt anything but lucky. Talking to relatives and friends, and reflecting on her life, I realized she definitely had the Luck O' the Irish. Teresa M. Pranger was born into an Irish Catholic farming clan in the small town of Charlotte, Iowa on October 1, 1935. The redheaded youngest daughter of William O. and Mary G. (O'Toole) McDonnell learned sacrifice early in life. This was the middle of the Great Depression and I don't know how my Grandfather fed six boys and three daughters. He moved the family to the nearest big city, Clinton, Iowa, when my mother was a young girl. Relatives always joked that he opened a grocery store just so he could feed his family. My Mother undoubtedly did her share of work around the house at an early age and I'm sure she had her hands full helping Grandma chase after her two mischievous younger brothers. Mom contracted polio as a young teenager. She was in worse shape than an older brother, Thomas "Pinky" McDonnell, at one point. She recovered, but dealt with a curved spine the rest of her life. Mom spent many hours caring for Pinky, who made the most of his life though he was paralyzed from the neck down. His work with the March of Dimes and local community service earned him National Handicap Person of the Year honors. After graduating from St. Mary's High School in 1953, Mom worked for the local Dupont factory to help support the family. About this time, David Pranger, the best friend of Mom's older brother Chuck, returned from a stint in the Navy. A family friend recalled Dave and Chuck and others were sitting at the dining table, and Teresa walked down the steps: "Your Dad's eyes just lit up and that was that." The little sister had grown into a stunning young lady. Teresa and Dave were married July 14, 1956 in St. Mary's Church. The honeymoon was barely over when my Grandfather died on Feb. 1, 1957 - 50 years and a day before my Mother. Heartache was eased when Teresa gave birth to her first "fluke" on Oct. 1, 1957. Polio specialists had told her she wouldn't be able to have children. After Pamela, came Kathryn, William, Matthew, Lois and Mark in the span of eight years. My Mother spent nearly every moment of her day caring for and supporting her family. If she wasn't cooking, cleaning or cuddling, Mom was sewing outfits or attending sporting and other activities. She also worked part-time as a soda jerk at the local dairy and then as a bookkeeper at a pharmacy. When my youngest brother entered elementary school, she went to work full-time. At 43, Mom went to community college and then started a 25-year career of transcribing pathology reports. She became fairly fluent in medicine and probably flustered more than a few doctors with her knowledge and curiosity. Mom wanted me to become a doctor but I think she was the one who really wanted to practice medicine. Mom spent countless hours helping her mother until Grandma died in her 80s. In a short span she saw her brothers Don, Pinky, Chuck, Leon and Dick die too young. Through all the despair Mom did not lose her faith and her determination to aid others. Her heart -- 10 times the size of her frail body -- didn't shrink. Even after her children left the nest she still managed to care for them. I was the benefit of many care packages over the years. They didn't stop coming until I married in my late 30s and Mom probably only ceased sending them because she didn't want to insult my wife. She still sent homemade Christmas cookies every year. Mom was sweeter than the sweets she loved. When she finally did have some time for herself, my mother enjoyed arts and crafts, particularly stamping. She was fond of camping, especially if it involved visiting lighthouses. Limekiln Light and San Juan County Park were two of her favorite spots.
The golden years were too short and painful for my parents but Mom didn't grouse. I figure the pain she endured on a daily basis would've crippled the toughest NFL linebackers. Though arthritic and on oxygen full-time, she spent two of her final three years caring for my Father. He died of throat cancer in March, 2006. Mom probably should have been being looked after herself, but she rarely left Dad's side. Though her children were extremely concerned, Mom insisted on caring for herself during the past year. She didn't want to leave her home and probably didn't want to be a financial burden on her children. Somehow she found the will to take care of herself until a week before she died. The day before I returned for a final visit, I phoned Mom to let her know I'd be home on the next available flight. She was resting in her bed becoming weaker as her lungs and too-generous heart failed. Instead of complaining, she asked, "What are you going to want to eat?" I laughed, comforted after hearing that question, one she uttered hundreds of times before. That query pretty much summed up Mom's life. She cared selflessly for others most of her life, so why should that change on her deathbed. I believe her determination also helped her go out of this world as she wanted. All her children returned home and were able to express their love for her. She went to heaven with her six angels holding hands around her. Growing up I didn't realize what an angel my Mother was. I took for granted the love she showered on others. I thought everybody's mother had a heart of gold. Later in life I learned that wasn't always the case. A friend recently said, "Matt, you were blessed." Though I feel cheated for not being able to give back more to Mom, I am blessed. I was blessed with the greatest mother a person could ask for. I am so proud of her. She was the best at what she did -- CARE! Thanks to all who expressed their condolences but don't feel sorry for me. I really was lucky -- I'm half-Irish after all. |
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