Decrescendo

Today, I sit in silence, watching my daughter take a well deserved nap after our dip in Zias pool. As the memorial of my Nonnas’ passing quickly approaches, I find myself increasingly grief stricken, like a crescendo to a cord that was struck June 15, 2018, somber and heart-wrenching. My mind races with memories of my biggest supporter, cheering me on, holding me high when I was low- rejecting any idea that I was less than how she saw me. A reflection that I lost when she went to heaven.

Throughout my life I’ve realized what a rare and beautiful sight that was, a great fortune that I was exposed to- the epitome of wealth. 

 I miss the way her perfume smelled- notes of bergamot, orange and jasmine that took my sense of smell captive, a comfort that I am grateful to be able to harness. I can see her perfectly quaffed curls held in lifelong formation almost in defiance of gravity- needing only minimal maintenance from our next door stylist and a quality gossip session with her mother. Cumulatively,  with her unimpeachable gold loops, leopard print clothing and array of functional scarpe – she didn’t miss a beat.

I’m transported to my 10 year old self, stocky and uncoordinated, wanting to visit the local community club and take a leisurely swim. I can see her in her infamous straw sunhat, an inherited pair of sunglasses from one of her daughters, and white running shoes- ready to escort me down the road. Her generation of woman popularly shied away from driving and she was no different. With that said she willingly accepted the walk in the sometimes sweltering heat to make us happy, moments that I’ll never forget. As an added bonus, she always was sure to bring some “pocket” money as it was regular practice that we would also partake in a summer treat or 2, her only fault was her inability to say no to me. 

As a boy in elementary school, I would be eager to come home for lunch, where my best friend would welcome me time and time again. Regardless of the reason, the door was always open- a message that she could often convey by saying “this is your house”. In all of the 4 walls that housed me, my true north was always that 4 story back-split, winding concrete staircase and backyard gates warning of the once mythical dog- turned Ruger. I wouldn’t try your luck now. 

I remember Nonna as a very poised woman though I would add that she was multi-faceted. She was strong in every sense of the word and I’m sure at her apex before passing, having been tested and exceeding her entire life. As a young woman, she assumed much of the responsibilities in the loss of her mother and immigrated to a foreign country entrusting majorly in her husband with little family close by. One of her biggest accolades – the upbringing of her children and for us lucky few (her grandchildren), she also had a hand in directly parenting us, my second mother. To this day, I picture her resting her hand on my shoulder when I need to borrow some courage, with that red nail polish and modest gold wedding band. 

Atypical of many grandchild- grandparent relationships, I was always comfortable with speaking to Nonna. Our topics stretched a wide landscape, with really little to no stone left unturned. We would laugh and cry together, telling each other snarky stories, reminiscing on the the good and not so good times, all while maintaining that through good, bad or ugly- we were a team. 

My eyes swell up with tears, knowing that I can’t make my afternoon call to tell you how Marquesa is doing and that I think I’m doing much better….apprehensively.

Most of all, I wish I could come to you for advice on how to be the best man that I can, to embody that reflection that you always saw in me. 

I wish we could have had one last dance and am holding you to it when we see each other again. 

For now, I have our memories and though forever wouldn’t have been long enough – I pray that you’re happy.

Your actore,