I know their exact weight, probably more than they do. Down to the 1/4 pound they lose or gain, when I visit or talk on the phone with him.
Donna, mom's friend is down eighty three pounds. Rockin. "She has that farm in the back. You know she has a goat, too." Well, this phone call was not just about mom's Weight Watchin Friends, and how long he did the exercise wheely thing. He does for three hours a day.... sometimes five. His Aunt,
one of my favorites... Aunt Joan had died. I thought maybe it had just happened today.
He was calling now to let me know what the details were. What I did piece together.... she died last week. This was his mothers
best friend, favorite sister. Aunt Joan was also my father's sisters best friend. They were only four years apart in age. I was really listening as my father spoke. I asked him if he was okay?
He pushed those words away in a hurry.... said he didn't want to call to make me upset.
Now........ my brain is doing this..... deee dooo deee dooo. Just like a computer. I am perfectly calm, asking questions. I am thinking: am I somehow on crack, do I sound upset? Have hysterics set in and no one told me? This is actually, strange as it would seem one of those things I am well equipped at. Hospice has taught me so much. More than anything, I was just listening to what he was telling me. What I realized, when I finally took myself out of the equation... he was in deep grief. Needed to process this before he could even place this call.
All his old wounds were fresh. Memories of his mom. His sister who had left him so long ago.
He was the only surviving member of his family. All those memories came flooding back when he thought of Aunt Joan. Childhood thoughts of growing up in New York/NewJersey area.
She was really something else. Her humor was dark, dry...... just funny. I always told her she sounded like Marge Simpson on The Simpsons when I called her on the phone. She moved back to Oregon, about fifteen years ago to live with one of her daughters. Those Florio sisters were not the lightest in spirit. They carried heavy luggage from their people. Life had not been so easy in their household. My grandma and her sisters
grew up in New York. Life was a struggle from day one. Both parents came from Italy. They spoke only Italian in their home. Their father died early on, and mother was very ill with diabetes when they were young women. Money was always an issue.
I called them Charlies Angels, when I was in high school. Those Florio Sisters. That's just how I was, a smarty pants. When I really started going to town watching them..... two of them looked like Barry Mannilow in drag. I got more mileage out of that one. That would have me in hysterics. Little Grandma would just laugh. I am not lying. They really did! I am laughing, wondering if I will be looking like Barry Manilow in drag... soon enough. Well, I am only half Italian,
maybe that Scottish side will kick in, keep my nose down to a dull roar. How is it that our noses grow? Is that an Italian thing, or just the misfortune of everyone, as we age? I'll have to ask my about Doc that one. I don't want him to look at my schnoz too close. Possibly suggest that Carl Malden and I have more similarities than he once thought.
I used to take Little Grandma and Aunt Joan on outings. If that wasn't fun..... I don't know what was. Two opinionated Italian women. Fabulous, funny. There was this outlet for clothes I used to take them to. Now, these two gals did not like to spend money, even if they had it.... on themselves. They were very generous with others. That's just how they were! So, we'd go to this strip mall outlet. It was in El Monte.... it's all coming back to me. Not the nicest place to hang out at.
These two would jump out of my car and look at their polyester finery with sheer giddiness.
Now, you know there has to be something in it to amuse me. I love my gals like nobody's business, buy these gals were shy, proper....... Italian Catholic.
With outlet shopping, the clothes are such deep discounts, somethings gotta give.
Here's my pleasha! We would ...... no I would have 400 things in my arms, as these frothing
gals couldn't wait to try on their treasures. Aaahh..... then the curtain would open.
Giddiness would turn to horror, as fifty other older gals were packed like stuffed sausage
[Anne, that was for you] in this tiny make shift dressing room. Biggest under wear and
I think they were bras...... that I have ever seen in my life.
Laughing, checking them selves out... having the greatest time. These gals had to have been
ninety plus. I am teasing about all of this. It was just a shocker seeing the gigantic underwear.
Believe me...... it's not like I wear a thong. But ..... these things were sail boats, masts. Islands.
Watching Little Grandma and Aunt Joan have to let go, to try on their finery was the most fun.
They were the cutest little girls. Shy, waiting for the place to clear out. Really ... we had to wait it out. Now I see where I get my tendencies for waiting things out. Especially in public places.
They were so happy with their clothes. My thrill was sneaking up to the counter and buying everything they loved, while they were still tripping out in the dressing room. I knew where those little girls from New York came from. Those girls that wanted, too. They came from so little. My love for those sisters......
When Little Grandma died, about 6 or 7 years ago, a piece of all of us went with her.
On the flip side, so much of her is in all of us. We are learning to pull it out of us.
Love. To simply love. From a simple, uneducated woman. That's what some would say.
Not me. Not those who knew her. She knew what was most important. How to hold
a hand. Really hold a hand and send God's love through it. I felt it each and every time.
Her comfort was like none I have known. I wish I could manufacture it. Not for selfish
reasons. So everyone could feel what it felt like. To feel Grandma's touch. To know to your soul that you were her one and only. Everyone of us grand kids take that with us. We cherish it.
I know you were there waiting for Aunt Joan, Little Grandma. Your best friend came home to play. Aunt Nina welcomed you first, her mama. I bet that was some celebration to see your daughter....... after all these years. I bet there has been non stop parties in all your names.
You three girls, I can see it now. Strolling Fifth Ave...... with the fanciest hats and coats.
How beautiful you all look. There is a parade in your honor. Bask in the sun light.
Until we meet again. I miss you all so much. I can feel the joy now that you are reunited once again. You taught me so many things, my fine Italian ladies.
It is okay to want the finer things. To love beauty. To laugh large. Cry when it hurts. Diamonds do sparkle and shine......... all I have to do is think of the three of you. Your hearts were pure and true. You showed me raw feelings were okay. Express how you feel to those you love. Be who you are, because that is who you are. Infuse love into all the food you cook. Take very good care of my family, and be so very grateful for the love in my life. I felt truly loved by all three of you, down to my toes. I know you are taking care of each other. Take care of my girls for me, until we meet again.......
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