Yesterday marked 40 days since my mother’s passing – forty days of reflection, letting memories settle into the restless space of my heart, culminating in a day of remembrance to honor and celebrate her life.
Ileana, or as her friends lovingly called her, Lenuţa or Puşa (a nickname derived from the word “doll” in Romanian), embodied deep devotion, resilience, and unwavering love. She was the epitome of perfection in every role – wife, mother, homemaker, and as a professional. Her days were carefully organized, beginning as early as 4 am, ensuring that everything and everyone around her received the care they needed. She was always the first to leave for work and the last to return, yet she somehow always found time to prepare us breakfast and dinner.
Perfection was her nature. I remember how every Sunday she would spend hours ironing and starching our school uniforms, making sure we looked impeccable. Our home was a place of order and warmth, a reflection of her discipline and love.
Two of my favorite pictures with my mother, fading away in a small box – just like life itself.
Born in 1929, she was the only daughter among four siblings, raised in a family that valued hard work and community. Her well-respected parents, my grandparents, owned an inn with a restaurant and a shop.
From leaving her childhood home to study and later work in a bank in a distant Transylvanian city, where she met my father, her journey took her through various places. Always by my father’s side, a young officer, they moved from one military garrison to another as they built a life, a home, and a family that endured both joys and sorrows.
My mom was a survivor. At 30, she experienced the unimaginable loss of her firstborn who passed away in a tragic accident at just seven years old. She carried that pain, yet she continued – through the loss of her parents, her brothers, and eventually, my father.
Her greatest fear was to leave this world alone. But on December 30, she took her final breath in her own home, in the arms of her son, my brother – held, loved, and never alone.
Forty days later, I sit with these memories, grateful for the life she lived and the love she gave. Her presence lingers in the small habits she passed on, in the resilience she instilled in us, in the stories we continue to share.
They say grief changes shape over time, but love remains. And today, I honor her not just with sorrow but with gratitude.
Ileana. Lenuţa. Puşa. Mama. Forever remembered with love.
Deepest condolenced, Ina.
Thank you, Robert