My Second Mother: Irene Carlberg

I was nurtured and loved by my birth mother, Flora, until she died when I was fifty years old.

I remained an "orphan" until the age of sixty-seven when a wonderful lady in her late eighties, who attended Annunciation Church in Florence, Mass where I was serving as the parish Deacon, made an unusual request of me one Sunday after Mass.

I Gain a Second Mother

She and I had gotten to know one another when I greeted her after Mass as she sat in her wheelchair in front of the first pew. As the Sundays multiplied, our greetings became longer conversations.

She was always beautifully dressed with a great taste for colors and I had noticed how attentive she was at Mass. She wept during some of the hymns and at communion time. I was concerned that she was sad about some problems so one Sunday I asked her why she wept.

She answered, "Because I'm so happy to be here. Coming to church is the highlight of my week. I wouldn't miss it for anything!" And she didn't!

At first she could move about with the assistance of a walker, but she needed the wheelchair in church for her back and knees. She lost the ability to walk when she was in her ninety-sixth year.

She made an unusual request of me after we had known and talked to each other for more than a year.

"You know, I had three wonderful daughters but no son. I've always wanted a son. Would you be my son?"

I was speechless! She stared intently at me during my silence. I knew that she was far from being senile. Her mind was active and alert. She was very interested and informed in many areas, and a pleasure to talk to.

Irene had a friend, June Savino, who brought her to Mass every Sunday except when her daughter Judy Johnson, who wasn't Catholic, would bring her. June was sitting in the pew in back of Irene, so I whispered in her hear. "Did you hear what Irene asked me?" and she whispered back, "Yes, I did !"

"I don't know what to answer her. How will her daughters and grand daughter (June's son's wife) feel about me becoming her "adopted" son?" June said, "Why don't you ask them?"

So I took Irene's two hands in mine, kissed her on her cheek and replied, "I'd love to Irene but I think I should check with Judy first and she can ask the rest of the family."

I telephoned Judy that week and told her what her mother had asked me to become.

Her reply was almost instantaneous. "We'd be honored for you to become part of our family. Mother is very fond of you and it is true she always wanted a son and never had one. When I asked if she was sure that her two sisters and her own daughter would not resent this new arrangement, she answered, "I'm sure they'll feel the same as I do, and I'd love to have a brother!"

So it was, the next Sunday after Mass, I gave Irene a big hug and said, "You're family welcomes me "mother" so, I'd be honored to become your son and part of your family." She wouldn't let go of me! The tears poured down her face as she said, "I finally have my son!"

From that day in the winter of 1998 until she died ten years later, I had a second mother!

I need to add here that when Irene had first asked me to become her son I wondered how my dear birth mother, Flora, who had been in Heaven for fifteen years, would feel. So I prayed to her for an answer and told her as part of my prayers that I loved her deeply still and would forever. My consenting to becoming Irene's "adopted" son would in no way ever lessen my love for mother Flora. My answer came as I realized how loving a person my mother was, not only to me, and her blood family but to a host of friends besides. I could see her beautiful smiling face and feel her arms hugging me. "It's okay, make Irene happy during her final years. You love each other and love is meant to be given away - to be shared. Our love relationship will never change. Say "yes to her."

From the day I said "yes" to Mother Irene, I was included in all her family celebrations for her birthdays and Mother's Day. I started calling her mother. Ears and eyes picked up at communion time when I brought the cup to her and said before handing it to her, "Mother, the blood of Christ." Gradually the congregation became used to me calling Irene, "mother", and she calling me, "son".

To anyone who asked, "Why do you call her "mother" and she calls you "son", I gave this polite but brief answer: "Irene asked me to become her son and I said ‘yes'".

When Mother couldn't make it to Mass because she was ill, had no ride or the weather was bad, I would go to her home. We'd pray together, I'd give her Holy Communion and we'd have a nice visit.

I was told repeatedly, by various members of her family, how much these visits meant to her.

She knew just when I was supposed to come. As I entered the door of her front porch, I'd see her smiling face peeking out between the parted curtains next to her lounge chair. I knew I was wanted.

When the weather was good in the summer, and just before Christmas, June and Judy would bring Mother Irene to our house for lunch that we all enjoyed.