As I have described in earlier posts, one of my great joys in life was rummaging through the closets, cabinets, and drawers at Grandmother's house in search of old photos, letters, curiosities, and other family treasures. It was on one such exercise in bedroom archeology that I unearthed one letter in particular that caught my eye. It was from Dad, addressed to his parents, and begins like this:
"Dear Mom and Dad,
Now I can explain what all the secrecy has been about the last few months. His name is Davy and he was born on November 7th. His mother's name is Claudia."
I was surprised to see that the letter was about Mom and I. But why the secrecy? Puzzled, I keep reading until I come to this line:
"I fear that she is not long for this world, as she has had heavy exposure...".
At once my attention shifts from the "secrecy" part to Mom. I was just a kid, true, but I was an Oak Ridge kid. I knew what the troubling phrase "heavy exposure" meant. I remember what went through my mind as I stared at the letter in my hands:
I'm worried.
Is Mom going to be ok?
Maybe Dad is wrong.
Mom is fine.
She has always been fine.
The letter is from a long time ago, ten years or more.
Yeah, Mom is fine.
Dad was wrong.
I did not mention the letter to anyone. I did not want anyone to know that I had read a secret letter.
I found the letter in the early 1960s. I was in my early teens. Mom was in her early thirties.
~~~
Less than ten years later Mom is not fine anymore. Uterine cancer is trying to kill her. Doctors intervene. Surgeons remove the affected tissue with an abdominal hysterectomy. Radiation therapy appears to stop the cancer from spreading. Mom lives cancer-free for thirteen more years.
~~~
In the fall of 1979, a new cancer appears. It is swift, aggressive, and lethal. This time the cancer wins. Mom is fifty-three years old when she dies.
~~~
Mom's dad died at age 71. Her mother died at age 87. Of her nine brothers and sisters, five died in the eighties, three died in their seventies, and one died at age 59. Of her four grandparents, two died in their eighties, one died in her seventies, and one died at age 61. Mom's death at age fifty-three was not typical for her family.
In the days surrounding her illness and death I wondered why she was taken from us so young. I remembered Dad's letter. Was he right? Was Mom's cancer related to her work at Y-12? I did not bring up the secret letter. Doing so would not bring Mom back. I let it go. With time I forgot it completely.
