Lorna Callaway: A Life of Service and Strength
Lorna Callaway was not a woman of many words, but her actions spoke volumes. She became a war widow after the death of her husband Shannon in 1980. Shannon returned from service carrying the unseen wounds of war, which left him unable to work. To provide for their seven sons, Lorna took a job at the local hospital as a laundry maid, where she worked for more than fifty years. She raised her children with love, discipline, and resilience, instilling values that shaped their lives. Lorna’s story reflects the lasting impact of war on families, showing how widows bore heavy burdens with strength and ensured their families endured despite hardship.
Born and raised in a quiet corner of rural NSW, she would become the heart and soul of her family, her community, and the local hospital where she worked faithfully for over five decades. Her life was not easy—few lives were in those years after World War II—but Lorna carried her burdens with quiet strength and relentless determination.
She married young, just before her husband, Shannon Callaway, shipped off to fight overseas. When the war ended and he came home, the man who had once been full of laughter and life had changed. Like many veterans, he bore invisible wounds. Though the term “PTSD” wasn’t widely known then, Lorna recognized the heaviness in his eyes, the silences that stretched for hours, the sudden starts in the night. He tried to work, but his nerves got the better of him, and he couldn’t hold a job. So Lorna, without complaint, picked up the mantle.
With seven sons to feed, clothe, and raise, Lorna took a job at the local hospital as the laundry maid. It was the only work available at the time, and it didn’t pay much, but it was steady. She did what had to be done. Many occasions she took her younge sons, Flynn and Peter to work as there was no one to care for them.
Lorna would come home exhausted, her hands red and cracked from being in water, but her boys never went without a meal. Her house was always full—full of noise, of chaos, of growing boys—but also full of love. She raised her sons to work hard, respect others, and look after each other, and each of them carried her lessons into their own lives. She became a war widow following the death of her husband in 1980.
My aunty Lorna may never have appeared in history books, but to those who knew her—to the hospital staff, her community and especially to her seven boys—she was a hero. Not the kind with medals, but the kind who held the family to gether no matter what challenges face her, She died peacfully in 2007 aged 89.