“Everything changed after your best friend, Lisa, passed away,” my mother recalled.
In 1976, while flipping through old photo albums with my grandmother and mother, we stumbled upon a picture of me at age five, taken in Montevideo, Uruguay, in 1955. We paused to share stories.
“It was a sunny October day,” my mother continued, “when the school called to inform me that all students had to go home. Polio was spreading, and several children had been diagnosed. I rushed to pick you up, certain it had to be a mistake. But the following day, Lisa died, and I felt as if my world was crumbling. They explained it was a virus and that we had to keep you away from all other children. No playdates were allowed. I had to monitor you closely for any signs of illness. The fear was overwhelming, and it felt like no one knew how to handle it. I just looked at your joyful little face and worried incessantly.”
My grandmother interjected, “The moment I heard the panic in your mother’s voice, I rushed over. We all stayed at your house for weeks, and each day we learned of another tragedy.”
I remembered bits of this but had never heard them recount those events so vividly.
“You had a favorite dress that was too small, yet you insisted on wearing it. I never let you, but during that time, I allowed you to wear whatever you wished. You were so happy and wanted us to take your picture. Look at you!” My mother pointed to a picture of me beaming in a short pink pinafore dress.
“How did you cope with the stress? The fear? The isolation?” I asked both of them.
My mother turned to my grandmother, surprisingly allowing her to share. “I reminded your mother of 1928 when we were still in Poland. She had typhus at just five years old. Many were dying, and the source of the virus was unknown. We could only stay home, isolated. Your mother was extremely ill, and I was terrified. My mother-in-law came to assist us. We spent weeks alone, nursing your mother back to health while trying to avoid getting sick ourselves. The entire town was quarantined, and no one left their homes except for basic groceries. Supplies were scarce, but we made do. Eventually, your mother recovered, and we gradually resumed our lives.”
I was astonished to learn how similar their experiences with illness and isolation had been.
“It was terrifying, yes,” my mother admitted, “but we discovered something significant. In those moments, life continued. Initially, we waited and watched, but then we realized that living was what mattered most—fear shouldn’t take that away from us.”
My grandmother nodded in agreement, adding, “My mother-in-law told me that the greatest sin was to act as if we were dead while still alive. She sang lively country songs, and we laughed and danced. We drank tea and shared stories from the past. I learned that life goes on, even when you’re confined indoors.”
“We were fortunate that you stayed healthy,” my mother said. “After a few weeks, we ventured out again, and you began playing with other kids. Gradually, my fears eased. When I look at your picture, I don’t see lost time—I see how much I learned about living.”
Now, as I navigate the frightening circumstances of 2020 in America, I reflect on the stories my mother and grandmother shared. I find myself at home, anxious about the future for myself, my family, and my community. Many of us are practicing self-isolation, and it can seem like we are wasting time.
But it’s important to remember: No matter the situation, the only time that is truly lost, as my great-grandmother, grandmother, and mother taught me, is when we forget to embrace life. For more insights on navigating life’s challenges, check out this blog post we have written. For anyone looking to boost fertility, Make a Mom offers valuable advice. Also, Medical News Today provides excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, the shared experiences of my mother and grandmother during the polio epidemic remind us that fear shouldn’t overshadow life’s vibrancy. Their stories inspire resilience and encourage us to cherish every moment, even in isolation.
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