He was 55 years old when his wife, my mother died; and he still had to finish raising 2 of his 4 sons. We younger sons, number 3 and me, number 4, were 14 and 13 years old. Gone was the heart of our family, the one who gave us warmth and understanding and encouragement. Gone was the mainstay of our family, our mother, the steady rock in calm and turbulent times. A lesser man would have farmed us out to someone else and let someone else handle two teenagers in the soon-to-be turbulent 60's.
How did he do it? How did he manage to keep it all together, all alone, without support, without the wisdom that came from his life's partner?
Well, one day, when I was 16, I barged into my father's room heading to the large upstairs back bedroom that could only be accessed by going through my father's bedroom. I surprised him, but I was all the more surprised because I found him in intense prayer. And this 16 year old suddenly understood how he did what he was doing for me and my brother.
His strength came from the Lord.
Blessed be the Name of the Lord.
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