"Her whole life revolved around us," said her oldest daughter, Candi Fitzhugh. When Janulewicz died from cancer Nov. 26, the 61-year-old Whitewater woman left a legacy of love among her four children, 11 grandchildren and anyone else's children who crossed her path.

"My mom was a mom to everyone," Fitzhugh said. "She was an amazing lady." One of Janulewicz's dreams was to live long enough to see a Habitat for Humanity home being built for her daughter.

Her dream came true.

Six days before Janulewicz died, Hospice Care of Janesville and Walworth County Habitat for Humanity gave her a written promise and a symbolic key to her daughter's home. "Our mission is to enhance the quality of life at the end of life," said Lisa Brown, community relations manager with Hospice Care. A hospice social worker realized the importance of assuring Janulewicz that her daughter would have a home of her own, Brown said. The social worker brought the dream to Brown to see what could be done. Habitat for Humanity agreed to help speed construction, Brown said. Originally, Hospice Care had considered hosting a dinner for the family in Fitzhugh's home. But the house wasn't far enough along to meet that goal.

Brown then decided to write Janulewicz a promise. It was presented to Janulewicz during a bedside ceremony.

"Mom smiled and then cried when she received the promise," Fitzhugh said. "My mother's biggest worry was about us all being OK. She knew the house was going to be finished and that we would one day be in it."

Fitzhugh's new Habitat home is under construction on South Franklin Street in Whitewater. It will be done early this summer.

Although Janulewicz was diagnosed with renal cell cancer three years ago, she continued to help at Habitat fund-raising events.

Last summer, she accompanied Fitzhugh to a Habitat hike. "She was feeling pretty good, but tired easily. She worked at the table," Fitzhugh said. "There were a lot of things she still could do sitting down."

Janulewicz fought a valiant battle against the disease as it spread throughout her body. And through it all, she tried to maintain a sense of normalcy in her life and the lives of those she loved. Every Friday night, Fitzhugh's 5-year-old daughter, Cally Kloske, had a sleepover at grandma's house. "They would laugh, talk and bake cookies," Fitzhugh said. "One night, my mom called laughing so hard she could barely talk to tell me about Cally dancing around the house in a night gown and mom's wig."

Her mother's death left a void in Fitzhugh's life and many memories. Janulewicz, who divorced Fitzhugh's father when her children were small, spent years struggling to make ends meet. "I remember her walking to work because we didn't have a car," Fitzhugh said. As a child, Fitzhugh also remembers having the electricity in their rented Freeport, Ill., apartment shut off because of nonpayment. It was a cold winter before laws prohibited such actions, Fitzhugh said. Although her younger siblings were packed off to stay with friends that evening, Fitzhugh refused to leave her mother. As the temperature dropped, Fitzhugh and her mother snuggled under all of the blankets in the house. "It was dark and cold," Fitzhugh said. "We talked about good things that made us feel better. I remember falling asleep snuggled up with my mom." Rather than frightening her daughter by the depth of the family's financial problems, Janulewicz made the evening a treasured moment.