It will be two weeks tomorrow since God called Mama into eternity.
I’m lonesome for her. I took care of her day and night for the last two years and with her death, my
life must take on a change and adjustment. She used to call me constantly and sometimes it was quite
wearying to hear her calling so, but now I’m lonesome for the sound of her voice and wish I could hear it
again.
Love is based on knowledge, and I just thought that if I could tell
you a few more things that characterized my wonderful mother, that you, too, would “love” her more.
Mama grew old sweetly. She was not a crotchety, cantankerous old
person. She was a 5’2” little ol’ Italian white and dark-haired lady whose smile won everyone over the
first time they met her.
Gentleness and sweetness marked her approach to people. She was quiet and
soft-spoken, but within the walls of her own home, she was most comfortable speaking, inquiring,
directing.
Mama was satisfied with the simple life. She never expected diamonds
and fur coats; she shunned the worldliness of the world and ventured outside her home only for the
necessaries, like Church, the hair dresser and the grocery store.
I remember as a kid that whenever she needed to go downtown to buy us
clothes, etc., she would take the street car. She first went to Penny’s and looked things over and
then walked from one store to another to find the best deal and price. Usually, she wound back up and
Penny’s for the purchase and I used to wonder why she just didn’t save herself the time and trouble by
buying at Penny’s in the first place. Mama needed to find the best deal for the money.
We were poor growing up. My Dad was a shoemaker who learned his
trade at the age of seven in the old country of Sicily. There were five children and my parents went
without a lot in order to provide for us. We were poor, but we had a sufficiency with love. THAT was
priceless.
To her last day, Mama called me “sweetheart.” She called all of her
children “sweetheart.”
Oh, for the sound of her voice again! To hold her again; to tell her
again that I love her!
Earlier the day she died, I had said to her: “Mama, I think you’re
going to see Dad again soon!”
She just looked at me. I continued: “Mama, when you get to Heaven, you have
to help ME!” Again, she just looked at me!
Where would we be without our Faith? “Life is changed, not taken
away!” we hear in the liturgy.
"I go to prepare a place for you!" Jesus said. "He who eats My Flesh and
drinks My Blood will live forever."
Mama, I miss you! But I know I will see you again and there will be
no more tears and no more painful separation. Come for me, Mama, when it is my time, and remember your
poor daughter who needs you more than ever.
But for now, sweetheart, ... rest in peace! I love you!
And to you dear readers, God bless you!