My Mother

Winter usually brings about a time of introspection. It has been a LONG winter and my thoughts have been dominated by images of my parents, especially my mother. How I wish that my children got a chance to know my mother. How I wish that I had the chance to know my mother better – it seems like she was gone before I really got to know her, got a chance to learn about her life before she became a mom, what her hopes and dreams were, what it was like for her growing up in a big family. How sad that her history died with her. I was only thirty years old when she died. I was busy raising two children and living far away from home – I didn’t have the time or take the time to talk to her about her life.

I talk to my kids about their Nana. I tell them that she was the kindest person I have ever known. I tell them how she would do anything for anyone. I tell them how she welcomed all in her home, how she was happiest when she was feeding you, I tell them that she was a tiny woman – only about 4’ 11” who struggled with her weight her entire life. As long as I knew her she had grey hair, although I have pictures of her when she was younger and she had black hair. She was beautiful. She was very stylish when she was younger and she always wore high heels. I can remember going shopping with her in center city Philadelphia and she would be so afraid that her heels would get stuck in the ridges in the escalator or in the grates on the sidewalks. She always wore dresses – never jeans or shorts or pants. She liked costume jewelry and she wore no makeup except for her red lipstick.

My mom worked hard her entire life. Before she got married, she was a seamstress in a dress factory. After she had children, she worked as a “lunch lady” in the local high school, and then later was the manager of the cafeteria at the grade school. Even after she “retired” she got a job working at Villanova as a cashier at the Connelly Center. I think she was happiest surrounded by kids. But no matter what she did, she was always waiting for us when we got home from school.
My mother graduated from South Philadelphia High School. She never went to college, but she made sure that her children all graduated from college. She used to tell us how she got an award at school for her penmanship. We always thought that was so funny because she had the worst handwriting. She may not have gone to college, but she was a smart lady – she was intuitive about people and had a keen common sense. She loved to talk – especially to her girlfriends – and she had an extra-long cord on the phone in the kitchen so she could talk as she cleaned or got dinner ready. She would stay on the phone for hours (sounds like Tara!).My mother learned to drive when she was in her forties. I must admit she was not a very good driver. She had to sit on a pillow so she could see out the car window, and she would hug the wheel with both her hands. I can still picture her sitting behind the wheel of our silver Camaro.My mom was the best cook. She made things without using recipes and although I have tried, I will never be able to duplicate her dishes – I can still taste her “gravy”, her meatballs, her antipasto, her chocolate chip cookies, her eggnog. She loved to bake and she did use recipes for baking, although she had multiple versions of the same recipe. She loved to cook for a crowd, and there was usually a crowd at our house. She came from a large family – she had 2 brothers and 4 sisters and there were 18 cousins and it seemed like every birthday and holiday they were all at our house. My dad came from a large family too, 3 sisters and 4 brothers and 13 cousins, and they were at our house a lot too.I tell my kids how much my mother loved her grandchildren. They brought her such joy. The happiest times of her life were when she was with them, holding them in her arms, reading to them, taking them to the beach. It is sad to think she never got to see them grow up. She never got to know Chris. She would have been so proud of each one of them. I can see glimpses of my mother in my children and that makes me smile. Chris has her dark hair and eyes. I can see her smile sometimes in Tara. Matt has her compassion and friendliness.She was afraid of two things: dogs and water. She would panic whenever there was a dog roaming the neighborhood. She grew up with dogs in her house, but I think she must have gotten bitten when she was a little girl. We had all kinds of pets in our house – turtles, fish, frogs, baby chicks, a cat , rabbits – but never a dog. She also would panic whenever she would be near water. It would be a miracle if you got her to walk in the ocean or put her feet in a pool. She made sure that me and my brother and sister learned how to swim. She would drag us to swim lessons at the YMCA every week so we would not have her fear of water. It always amazed me how when for those few short years she was with her grandchildren, she would take them to the beach and walk in the water with them, always holding their hands so tightly. Her love for them transcended her fear.

She loved to stay up late at night. (All three of my children can thank her for that). She would sit on the couch watching Johnny Carson with a glass of Diet Pepsi by her side. Invariably her head would slump over and she would fall asleep, but she would never admit that she was tired. She would be up before the crack of dawn getting housework done before any of us got out of bed. She worked so hard for our family. The only time I ever saw her slow down was when she would get a headache. Her headaches would knock her out – severe migraines that only aspirin and sleep would cure.

There is so much more to tell about my mother. I wish we had video of her so my kids could hear her talk, see her laughter, know her. I forget what her voice sounds like, but sometimes in my dreams, she is there again - maybe that is what it means when it's said that a person never really leaves you when they die, that they are always a part of your life. Maybe dreams are a gift from God of a little more time with the ones we love.

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