At the turn of the 20th century, my grandmother Helene Margarete Augusta Desens came into this world. She was the youngest of eight children born to Carl and Augusta Desens. She was born and grew up in Forest Park, Illinois. She attended St. John Lutheran Church and school. I never had the privilege of knowing my paternal grandmother because she died six months before I was born. For some reason, I always felt connected to her. As a little girl, I would visualize her looking down from heaven and watching me. My father never told many stories of his mother except that she had a great sense of humor and could be sarcastic. I wanted to know my grandmother like I knew my maternal grandmother. My grandmother suffered many hardships and died at a young age. I think that is why her story means so much to me.
In January of 1919 she anxiously awaited the return of her boyfriend to come home from France after serving in WWI. Two months later, Helen married George Manfroid the day before her 19th birthday. Near the end of 1919 she gave birth to a baby boy, George, Jr. For the next 10 years, life was pretty good for them. My grandfather work and she stayed home with their little boy, George. They lived in Forest Park among both of their families. They visited back and forth with family and friends. My grandfather bought a gas station and they bought a house in Elmhurst, IL where her sister Annie lived. Life was good!
Then the great depression happened. It hit them hard. My father always talked about it. He was only 10 when it happened, yet it made a big impression on him. My grandfather lost his business, and he had a hard time finding work. They lost their big house in Elmhurst, but somehow, they managed to buy a smaller house in Elmhurst. The house had a living room, dining room, kitchen and one bedroom and one bathroom. My father slept in the living room on the sofa.
My grandmother worried about where they were going to get their next meal. Sometimes they ate bananas for Sunday dinner. In 1933, during height of the great depression Helen gave birth to another son Donald. He was born mentally challenged. I often wondered if my grandmother did not get the right nourishment during her pregnancy. As he grew older, he could not feed himself, dress himself, or go to bathroom on his own. He was non-verbal and my father said that Donnie could be a handful. Helen became his full-time caretaker. I can’t image how she handled this alone while my grandfather tried to find employment and finally did with the American Can Company. She had a big family so maybe her sisters pitched in and helped her. My father was 14 when Donnie was born so maybe he helped after school. Although, my father left high school when he was 17 to find work to help support the family. I don’t know how much help he was after he started working. When Donnie was about 11 years old, Helen was diagnosed with Parenchymatous Nephritis (kidney disease and failure). She suffered with this for 4 years. Image having to take care of her son Donnie and at the same time she was sick. Treatment for this during the 1940’s was dietary modifications mostly milk and low salt diet to control Edema, bedrest and warm clothing, antibiotics for secondary infections. She could not rest when she had a son that needed her. I don’t know if she followed the dietary recommendations or had antibiotics. After four years of suffering, she succumbed to the disease. She was hospitalized over Labor Day weekend with Uremia and was there for five days. On the fifth day she died at 46 years old leaving behind a husband and two sons. During the five days, the doctor never came to see her until the day she died. My father thought the doctor and the hospital didn’t do enough to save her. They just let her lie there and die. After that, my father would have nothing to do with doctors or hospitals for a long time. Donnie was 13 years old and still needed his mother. I wrote about Donnie’s story on my blog several years ago you can find it at Meeting Uncle Donnie. As it turned out, Donnie can understand more than he is able to verbalize. He did manage to tell me one time, “Ma is with God.”
Knowing about the hardships she faced in her short life is why her story means so much to me. We all face some hardships in our lives, and I certainly have in my long life. Mine were different than hers, but I feel I can relate to her. Maybe someday I will get to meet her in Heaven for the first time.
Week 3 What this story means to me 52 Ancestors in 52 Weeks
