Nonna

Sundays are meant for making a sauce. A nice tomato sauce - not too thick- full of the flavors of garlic, basil, oregano and parsley. When I am standing over my stove sauteing garlic and olive oil, the fragrance reminds me of Nonna. My Nonna (that is Italian for grandmother) was a unique and wonderful woman. I often have a hard time finding the perfect words to describe her. She was tiny, always wore her hair up in a bun and had a smile that would warm your heart(that is her in the picture). I had the kind of relationship with Nonna as a little one much like many have with their grandmother, she was warm and affectionate and spoiled me a little.

As I got older, naturally, our relationship changed. There was a time when I didn't see her a whole lot, college, friends, etc. I didn't have time to sit and stare at that beautiful face. When I was in my mid twenties, I moved into the top floor flat of her house on Grand Street. This was a new beginning. I began to spend more time with her. She would take in the mail and place mine on the stairs going up to my flat. She would often greet me with a big bowl of whatever was making the house smell like a villa in Rome. When I would go to the grocery store, many times I would bring her or take her list and buy her groceries. When I got a raise at work, I raised my own rent and she got so mad! That was the thing about Nonna, she was giving, she would give you the cardigan off her back. She was unassuming and humble. On many a Saturday afternoon, I would wander down to her apartment and she would put on some coffee. We would chat, about her life, what it was like to grow up in Italy. I would tell her about my love life, I used to tell her that I never wanted to get married, that I wanted to stay there and live with her. She would laugh and tell me that she lit candles for me at church so that I might "meet a nice boy and settle down". I go back to those Saturdays in my mind sometimes and sigh with a smile.

Unfortunately, Nonna did age, it seemed all at once. After she moved in with my mom (mom had an addition built so Nonna could live with her), she fell and broke her hip. It was then that I was faced with the reality that Nonna wont be around forever. Shortly after her fall, she moved into the Teresion House. She aged before my eyes, she became forgetful and weak. She had another surgery on her hip and was hospitalized on a few occasions for dehydration. I knew the end was near, but REFUSED to admit it.

Then, the phone rang at 5:00 on a Sunday morning and I knew - Nonna was gone. It was a cold day - the wind was very strong, almost angry. As I stood next to her petite body, I knew she was in Heaven, but that didn't ease my pain. I blew her a kiss and whispered "bellesima" - which was what I did every time I would end my visit with her.

Her wake and funeral were very crowded, which is unusual for a 92 year old - but she had touched so many in her life, she had a way that made you feel so very special. I hated to say good bye to Nonna. It has been over 2 years since she left and it still hurts my heart.

I miss her little hands.

I miss her smile.

I miss her hugs.

I hate that fact that she never got to know S, my "nice boy".

I hate that I had to get married without her there.

I know she is with me in spirit, I feel it, sometime really strong. I count myself as SO lucky to have had those special times with her. Bellesima Nonna!

xo