Imagine a young mother in her late teens, carrying her first child in her second trimester, who in a span of a few days had to help bury her own mother, then to take one niece, one nephew, and another young teen girl bequeathed to her by the girl’s blind father, on a journey by foot to another city which she had never been to escape from the Communist. That young mother is my mother! By the way, her subsequent years were no less amazing. She succeeded in all her endeavors for that fateful journey and many many more.
My Father About My Grandmother