She raised me.
SHE RAISED ME
The woman who raised
the woman who raised me died on this day years ago.
As many years have
passed as the age I was when she passed.
I’m humbled by how the years swiftly go.
An immigrant woman
who boldly stepped foot In a new world during the Great Depression, she spoke little
English, which made me think she was dumb but I was the fool to think this.
She was wise but too
humble to brag or insist. She knew
things I may well never know. An angel
on Earth, she accepted pain like a martyr.
This tiny immigrant woman had worth.
My Nonna was a
fighter who chose LOVE as her weapon, which led me to think she was weak. I perceived her to be a dusty doormat until I
found myself used and abused.
She would turn her
cheek, again and again, and learning of this angered me. “I guess she didn’t know better; how to defend
herself,” but of course she was strength and durability.
When someone is
wronged it is easier to react with the same venom received. To gossip about another’s behavior feels so
good but does no good. She would pray
and bless and cook and tidy and mend and scrub and coddle and feed and feed and
feed her family.
“Mangia!” Refusing a 3rd helping was met with
her sincere inquiry, “Wassa matta, you no likey?” Heading out for the day, we were cloaked by
her warning to “Be caff!” and when we were funny, she’d give her 1, brief,
hearty, “HA!”
She was always at
home for us after school, ready with a snack and, later, dinner - all day,
every day serving others. I didn’t yet
know that she was teaching me how to be a good Christian woman; a loving mother
and grandmother, which I hope to someday be.
She lived a Weebles’
life. “Weebles wobble, but they never fall down.”
For many years, she
endured physical and mental abuse, attracting in ignorant, hateful, unevolved, ungrateful
people who bit the hand that fed them.
By the time I showed up, a month after she’d turned sixty, she’d been mistreated,
but not defeated. She’d been battered,
but not broken. I was none the wiser,
for all I knew was her kindness, patience, caring, loving, hugging and catering
to us like a woman unscathed by that which tried to shatter her. She was so buoyed by love, it coated her and kept
her resilient.
Not many are like
her, strong enough to endure; wise enough to forgive; sad enough to empathize
and compassionate enough to teach. Through
her simple act of living, she raised me.
I hope I’m rising, Nonna. Grazie
per tutto che mi ha imparato. Vi voglio
tantissimo e per sempre.
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