Lots of people say that they have a great Mom. I am no different. This year I am going to tell the world what I have known for my entire life.

I have a great Mom. Her name is Anna Kondraciuk.

My Mom came to this country, in 1966, with two very young children to join my Dad who arrived a year earlier. My Dad was given an opportunity of a lifetime to leave Poland for America and after many discussions they decided to do it. My Dad left in 1965, leaving his wife and two kids (ages 3 & 4). My Mom had to work, support and care for two small children. It wasn't easy. A year later, it was her turn. She had to say goodbye to everything and everyone that she loved to make a better life for herself and her children. In her mind, it was the last time she would see her parents and her family ever again.

She struggled to learn a new language, raise her children, support my Dad and stay positive, in Detroit. It wasn't easy. They wanted to make it work because this was freedom. They decided to have another child (me). Although they were here legally, they felt having an American baby was added insurance. I was conceived and born during the Detroit riot period. At this time, my Dad got a job with General Motors, joined the UAW, and started the beginning of their American dream. They bought their first home, moving to a much safer area.

I'm not sure how they managed it. GM provided them with an okay living but it wasn't a lot back then. They had three more children between 1970-72. My youngest sister was born 2 months premature, and my Mom almost bled to death during the delivery - she had a placental abruption. Mom and baby sis survived but a month later my 13 month old sister died - crib death is what they called it back then. It was devastating. I've often asked my Mom how she got through it without becoming a basketcase. Her response was simply: I had no choice, I still had young children to care for. To this day she still gets tears in her eyes when talking about my sister in heaven.

We were poor, very poor. Between the labor strikes, the 70's and Jimmy Carter it's a wonder we still had a home to live in. We did. None of us ever knew that we were poor. We always had food, clothes, toys, bikes (which my Dad built). We never really wanted for anything. Christmas always arrived - everything was rosy for us kids. My Dad worked his ass off and when we had no money, they got food stamps. When the strikes were on my Dad picked junk to sell for scrap. My Mom never gave us a clue what our situation was. My parents NEVER argued in front of us and when we disagreed with them - they were always a united front.

In 1979, they saved enough money for Dad to go back to Poland for a visit. In 1980, Mom got to go back to Poland to visit her parents and family as well. I don't know how they managed it. They never paid their bills late and the mortgage always got paid first. They managed to both go back for a visit and we never wanted for a thing. Mom was an accountant before moving here - that explains a lot of it. But it still amazes me.

In 1984, at age 22, my oldest sister was murdered by her boyfriend. She didn't die right away - they had to come to the agonizing decision of "pulling the plug". They did it. They lost their first born in a horrific way and again the strength displayed by my Mom was unbelievable. She was tougher than my Dad or she just hid it better. It was a rough period to be sure and unfortunately my sister's funeral happened six days before my Mom's 44th birthday. Not much to celebrate that Easter. It was two weeks before my sweet 16.

In 1989, they bought their retirement home. A 40 acre farm in Hillsdale, MI. It was the 1990s, and they were paying two mortgages. We were all grown and in college - so they could afford it. In 1994, I dragged my Mom back to Poland. I wanted to go, and since her parents were still alive at ages 90 and 92, I told her it was probably her last chance. She came with me. That was when I realized that Mom was more than a Mom. I realized that not only did I love my Mom but I really liked her as well. I had fun with her and I really enjoyed her company. I got to know her as a person not just as a Mom.

A couple of us married and Mom became Grandma. She's a spoiler and way too generous. She gives unconditional love to my son and that deepens my love for her.

My Dad became terminally ill in 2001. After the diagnosis, he lived about 5 months at home with Mom. Mom cared for him tirelessly. She was a rock and a saint. When the end came, mercifully, she had to learn how to live alone. It isn't easy for her but she is a survior. She sold the farm and moved back near the rest of us - as she promised Dad on his deathbed.

Many of you may remember that I had surgery recently and a long and painful recovery. Who took care of me? Mom. She moved in for 2 months to care for me and help me around the house. She was welcome company and she became once again - my Mommy.

My Mom has survived a lot and accomplished more. She raised children that are all productive members of society and good Americans. She is financially secure and has a nice little condo. There is only one thing missing in her 40+ years of living her American Dream - her United States Citizenship. She is in the process of obtaining it because after all she's an American.

Happy Mother's Day Mom!

I Love You,

Rosemary