Steelers guard works through mother's offseason death

In June, Steelers guard Ramon Foster finally got around to shopping for what he thought would be the perfect Christmas gift for his mother: a new home.

Foster, a warhorse in the trenches, couldn't wait to see the wide, engaging smile of Wyvonia “Jeanell” Foster-Morgan. In some ways, this would be a gesture of gratitude, an incalculable expression of his indebtedness to life's lessons she taught him.

Foster knew no gift meant more to his mother than the time she spent with his family. Time, however, is often an elusive pipe dream for an athlete in the NFL. Still, Foster orchestrated a plan to recapture the time stolen by undeniable realities: mini-camp, organized training activities, film study and daily workouts.

Foster talked with his mother nearly every day in the week before training camp began at Saint Vincent in Latrobe. They made plans both during and beyond the football season — and his career — including her trip to Pittsburgh to celebrate Christmas with his wife, Kesha, and sons, Ramon Jr. and Myles.

Instead, on this Christmas Day, Foster and his family will celebrate the life of a woman who gave him both the gift of life and humility.

On July 22, four days before training camp began, Foster's mother died suddenly at age 49. A day after his mother's homegoing, a grief-stricken Foster soldiered on. He arrived at training camp determined to fulfill his commitment.

“I gave him a lot of credit. He was on my mind through everything,” said Renardo Foster, his older brother. “We had to bury our mom, and everything was the spur of the moment. He went right back to training camp.

“I don't know how he did it. Neither one of us show too much emotion, but during the service it was probably the most emotion we've shown even to one another. I was praying for him every night. It was difficult for him.”

After all, his mother had delivered the work ethic sermon more often than he could remember. Yet, even as he thrust his shoulder into a blocking sled or exhausted himself during conditioning drills, he thought of only one thing: time.

Now, it was irretrievable. At least it would be a lesson learned — time to make time for his family, no matter the obstacles.

“No doubt, my biggest regret was thinking I would have more time with my mom after football,” Foster said as he sat next to his locker at the Steelers' South Side facility. “I figured I'll have time to make up time.

“It was time lost. It's the biggest blunder so many of us make with our families. You never get that time back.”

It was a realization offered him by offensive lineman Alejandro Villanueva. The two talked about his moving on, embracing his mother's death with the dignity in which she lived.

“The one thing people don't realize about death is that life goes on,” Foster said. “When you lose a close one it's hard to say that life goes on in the sense that you forget them because you don't. Every day when I'm coming to work or driving home, I want that phone call from my mom.”

Foster and his brother, Renardo, who split three seasons with the Atlanta Falcons and St. Louis Rams, have dedicated themselves to a promise made to their mother. It's their job now to hold together both their nuclear and extended families.

They, too, are holding on to the memories. They remember how their mother made every family get-together a grand occasion, a time to reflect, a moment to envision something greater.

They also often appreciate the mountainous hurdles they scaled to become professional football players. They survived poverty and the perils of a blighted neighborhood accustomed to marginal, if not lost, aspirations.

“My brother Renardo and I will have to take up a lot of slack as far as making sure everyone is OK because she always took care of them,” Foster said. “It's going to be a challenge holding on to the traditions she kept alive for so long.

“I've been so busy, but I take time to scroll through her pictures on my phone. I do it real fast because I don't want to go down that avenue just yet because I haven't mourned yet.

“I have to remind myself who she was,” he added. “I look just like her, so I can't get away from her. Mentally, I'll have to attack that head first in the offseason. It's been very difficult to move on without her.”

For the Foster brothers, a piece of Ms. Foster-Morgan is embedded within.

“My mother's core values were being accountable and not relying on anyone else to do something for you,” said Renardo Foster, a high coach in Louisville. “She was dedicated about everything she did, and she demanded it from us.

“She is always speaking to me in the back of my mind throughout the day. It's almost as if everything I'm doing, I feel she's looking down on me.”

Renardo Foster, who hopes to return to the University of Louisville as a coach under Bobby Petrino, began coaching high school football last year, in part, because his mother insisted he follow a path guided by his passions.

Football, Ramon Foster said, was a passion they shared with their mother.

“I knew she loved watching me play,” Ramon Foster said. “In doing it, I know she's watching over me. It's my way of keeping her with me. I can't have talks with her, but it keeps her a part of me every week.

“I want to talk with her. I know eventually I have to move on with it. I try to keep it to myself, but there are times when I wonder if I'm handling it too well. I talked with the team chaplain, Chad Johnson, because I'm not sure when or how to mourn her passing.

“It finally hit me the night when I got the phone call — she was dead. There was nothing I could do. I actually saw her body — that was the toughest road to get past.”

It was tougher than any game he's played this season. Or any season.

Ralph N. Paulk is a staff writer for Trib Total Media. Reach him at rpaulk@tribweb.com.