When I left Hungary in 1956 I had no idea that I will not see my Mother for 22 years. As a young couple, my husband and I had a very hard time establishing ourselves in our new country. We also became a family when our three children were born who only knew their Grandmother through our correspondence. The years went by fast, and the children left home for jobs and school.
In 1978, for the first time since I had left home, I was becoming very homesick. I knew I could not go home yet, not even for a short visit. During the years I had invited my Mother to come out and see us, and she always declined. She was very fragile and had to use two canes for walking, and, of course her advanced age was a factor. But I think the fact that she never flew in her life also had a big part in her refusal. I wrote to her again explaining my loneliness, and after few more letters had been exchanged, my Mother finally agreed to take the long trip.
I'm still having problems describing my feelings when I first saw her emerging from Customs at the Los Angeles airport. She was sitting in a wheelchair and an attendant was pushing her. Her tired face was sparkling with happiness and tears. The children and I ran to her and held her in our arms; we took her out of the wheelchair and took her home.
She is long gone now, but I always will remember...