My mother recently passed away at the age of eighty-four. Along with the emotional sadness of her passing, came the physically and emotionally draining task of cleaning out her home of fifty years. I have discovered memories dating back to her arrival in the USA in the 1950s. She was born in Romania then moved to Austria at an early age with her brother, mother and father, and then acquired sponsorship to America. This was a joyous event that was made bittersweet by the passing of her beloved brother. He died of appendicitis just days before coming to America. Once in the U.S., she got a job as a seamstress and saved her money. She met my father who was also an immigrant but he was from Hungary. They started fresh by buying a house and starting a family. Then again tragedy struck. Her husband, my father, died of a massive heart attack at the age fifty-one, leaving her a widow at forty-nine. Then two years later she lost her father and finally lost her mother three years after that. Through her entire life’s journey, my mother persevered and was not bitter. She loved life and loved her family and will always be my biggest hero. Her earthly journey ended in January 2016, but her legacy lives in her family.