Christmas with Grandma G

Living in a community for Active 55+ residents has given me a different view of Christmas.  These residents are teaching me more about living in the later stages of my life and what the holidays are about, celebrating being here to enjoy it, pure and simply. 

The way it is celebrated by our neighbors is as varied as they are. There is the neighbor next door who like so many of us, lives on a tight limited income so didn’t really have enough money to travel home to see the kids and grand-kids after making the trip twice in the last 6 months. 3 weeks before Christmas the kids called and said airline tickets were purchased in their name, they would be flying to their kids in PA for Christmas!

We also know there are many with no children or family to spend holidays with so invite others to a holiday party at their home. Christmas Eve they host a huge dinner and it is a family affair for those who need an adopted family for Christmas. We are told it is such a beautiful affair that even some with family sometimes attend!

There are those that go vacationing in groups with other members here or with longtime friends from Florida or elsewhere.  As you age, no Christmas should be taken for advantage as each could be your last. Also some relatives break from their families and unconditional love doesn’t exist so residents, for the most part. Many here refuse to be sorrowful, they are reminded by our community, you are loved by God and accepted as you are by everyone here.  Instead they adopt an attitude that their family may eventually come around and love and miss them. If not, God wants them to be happy not wither in self-pity for what was or was not. Life is not to wasted but cherished for the blessings bestowed on us.

My Christmas was preceded by a brief overnight-er in the hospital.  It was

discovered my main artery was almost completely blocked to my heart. A stint

was put in and I am fine, one week to the day of Christmas Eve.  Those are the times God lets you know whose lives you touched, who you matter to and who

you does not care whether you live or die. And, this lead to a change for the holidays! Sad on one front because our plans for flying to NYC to spend with my husband’s wonderful family were canceled. It opened an opportunity for us to spend with my son’s family in TN as that was driving only 2 states away. And both him and my daughter-in-law opened the door wide! So, God saw fit I saw my son, daughter-in-law and three of my grandchildren this year for Christmas!  Lost one blessing and gained another!

Everyone has prized memories of childhood memories of Christmas. Mine were of going to Toledo, Ohio and spending them with my Grandma Gliatti. So, when I arrived home yesterday, I received the best Christmas gift of all.  To explain, I have to back up; my older sister had traveled to Italy this fall. While in Italy, Terri traveled to the city where Grandma was raised, Bovino. Bovino is a small hilltop t9own in southern Italy at the foot of the Irpinia mountains located in the province of Foggia. She wanted to bring me back something from the city so I had a connection from where Grandma was from. Unknown at the time about the heart issue to her (or me!) but thinking she wanted some item symbolic of our tie to the city, Terri bought a beautiful heart necklace from a shop in Bovino.

Hearing the story in a letter with the gift box when I got home the other day, I knew inside this is a Grandma Gliatti thing, the heart that drew Terri to buy it. Grandma was always prayerful and led by God's word and love of family. When unable to attend Mass, she would sit and watch it on TV going through all the steps as if she were in attendance in accordance with her Catholic faith.  She was watching over me when I prayed in the hospital making sure everything was okay because she was that kind of grandma to all her grand-kids.

Inside the heart emblem is an item that swirls in a circular motion, just like the circle of love she had hoped for our family. Terri took that trip that took her back to where Grandma Gliatti started, Bovino, and Terri brought back a piece Grandma Gliatti wanted me to know was symboic of her heart showing me her love has never really left me. When others may leave my life Grandma's love is always there, uncconditional, watching over me, from heaven. Terri also bought me a pair of 

earrings from another shop keeper who knew grandma’s family, another connection to hold onto and pass on to my beloved Granddaughter who I love as much as Grandma loved me.   When the day comes and I pass into heaven where my Grandma Gliatti resides, I will have let my granddaughter know of my Grandma Gliatti’s unending unconditional love for her grandchildren.  

I had Christmas with my Grandma Gliatti again, in 2016 and my heart is full of thanksgiving.  I got my soft heart from her.  Grandma is with me always on my path of life.  I am who I am, give what I can give and accept there are those who will judge me and feel they are justified in doing so. But I chose to live as my Grandma Gliatti lived, simple, lovingly and trying to live in God's teachings the best I can, though I may stumble and fall from time to time I am ever prayful as she taught me.

Christmas is more than just about Jesus’s birth and giving gifts, it is a time to renew our commitment to living out His word.   Grandma’s heart reminds me true love is everlasting. She has been with me all these Christmases, not just 2016, in spirit.  Love endures.  It is the non-pure type that doesn’t, perhaps that type never truly exists.  Maybe that is why 1 Corinthians 13:4-8 (“ Love is patient, love is kind…) was written, it has to be defined for so many weak withe ability to love, shallow in faith.  Grandma wanted Terri and I to stay connected regardless of our differences, to hold on to our bond, because that is what families do. Perhaps that is why, everytime she visits Italy she feels compelled to bring me back something and it is always something that reminds her of Grandma Gliatti for she knows how much she meant to me. 

Grandma Gliatti taught me how to be a Grandma by example. I know I have made her tremendously proud in that I have passed that type of love onto my granddaughter and to my other grandchildren I have been allowed to bond with. I love all my grandkids as she loved all of hers, freely, with all of my being. Daily, I pray for them all,so that God and Grandma G watch over them. 

The heart was telling, the text message I got from my granddaughter's new cell phone the very next day was too "Grandma, I miss you now" I hadn't been gone a full day yet.  And it made me sad and happy to see her words on my screen, isn't that part of the dichotomy of love? My son and daughter-in-law's children for sure will always know that Grandma Ronni will always be with them at Christmas because part of my heart will always reside with them.  Grandma Gliatti taught me to love like that.   Even in heaven, I will be celebrating Christmas with those I love "thee" most....

Dedicated to my sister Theresa Marie

Video Link to My Christmas

Whose Sock Was It?

I do not like socks with holes in them.  Who does? I am sure she put the hole in it.  I’ll be damned if I am getting stuck with it!  When the partner sock shows up, I will get stuck with the pair permanently. If she thinks because she is the older one that is going to happen, Miss Bossy has another thing coming! This time I am going to win the Sock War.  I gave in the last time with the Stare Contest! 

So, when she had the nerve to stick it in in the middle of my clothes pile, that holey sock and have it in my laundry pile, I just about lost it. I barely could hold my scream inside. I only did it so I would not get in trouble. I waited till she went downstairs to her bedroom in the basement.  I slipped down the steps from upstairs and quickly opened the basement door as quietly as I could and thus began another  Sock War installment. God only knows what version we were on now. I was getting tired of this shenanigans.    Being the younger sister sometimes just plain sucks. I don't care if she does let me tag along with her sometimes, I want to win some in-house fights. She should let me win for my self-esteem, at least that is what my friends say. She is going to scar me for life.

I yelled downstairs, quickly, so as she wouldn't be there, at the bottom of the steps. Aha, upper hand! She taught me that, now she gets a dose of her stuff!  I knew she'd be madder than hell. I screamed loudly like there was a fire in the house "Terri, this is not my sock" and pitched that holey sock  proudly down the steps slamming the door behind me.  Then, I ran like a bat out of hell up the set of stairs to be out of site when she ran like a track star back up after me.  

Like clockwork, here she came. I got my door closed in the nick of time and heard her tread up the steps. Then in a split second it seemed she was outside my bedroom door with that damn sock, threw it to the floor as I was holding my door shut as tightly as I could so she couldn't throw it in.  She said something not nice, loudly outside my door.  The nerve of that bully!

Sisters are ridiculous. How can people say they love them?  I could not understand, at that time, how people say they are their best friends.  No one had a sister who threw holey socks at them like mine did. How dishonest to not claim she had put her toe through that sock and falsely put the blame on me. I didn’t want that damn sock.  

But even I have to admit, we fit together in many ways. We are sisters, with the same mother and father. She was born first. I was born two and a half years later. My sister was named Theresa.  I was named Veronica.  Good Catholic names we had. Maybe they were chosen because of our father’s heritage though I was told it was for other reasons.   

Our dad was Italian. His parents came from Italy and were Catholic. Our mother was a convert to Catholicism.  I have always been told Italians have strong tempers and we sure did, especially towards each other. We either love or hated each other and our fighting sure brought out the worst in each other. But other times, the love bond was pretty darn strong.  So maybe it is true, Italians love you or hate you, and feel that way about each other because my sister and I, back in those days felt that way about each other.  I wonder if other siblings do.

Though our names were beautiful saint names,we were always called tomboy names, her Terri and me Ronni. It somehow seemed fitting, looking back. We were raised by our father, after our parents divorced and I am not sure either of us was ever really girly. I remember taking ballet classes for a time and let’s just say tutus never quite felt right on either of us. We practiced in  pink leotards and tights.  Getting us to practice those darn moves was real hard work. We would both rather do anything else!  Speaking for myself, I had an aversion for wearing pink for years.  I bet it had to do with those stupid ballet classes!  I still hate tutus! I kinda think they look funny.

Our differences have always been striking for years.  Terri has always been the creative one.  She had the ability to sing. She entered singing competitions in middle school and I can recall her singing quite well. There were times, as kids, I would sit on the front porch of our home and she would belt out songs for me on that porch at dusk and I would sit there mesmerized by how well she sang, so envious as my voice was so flat.  

She was always telling me how vivid my imagination was and how wonderfully animated I was. In time, I learned she was correct but I loved her art skills. Terri could also draw. She use to carry a sketch pad of her artwork.  It showed her emotional side though I was always the one that wore her heart on her sleeve; she was the one that captured it in song and in artwork.  I was the one that captured it in writings and in tears.  

Saint Theresa of Avila

In time, I learned some more about our names. Saint Theresa of Avila was a remarkable saint who was known as a woman of reform, compassion and prayer.  She faced a lot of adversity for her time and yet pushed forward in spite of it.  She was supposedly very courageous and compassion and yet, quite misunderstood by many.  Through all the opposition she faced, she held tight to her faith in God.  One of her most famous lines is “God is enough.”  

Saint Veronica

Saint Veronica is the woman that offered her veil to Jesus on his route to Calvary and upon holding it to his face, his image in blood was left on the cloth.  The word “vera” is the Latin word meaning Truth or Truthful thus the veil is considered the true image of Christ. Her act of moving out of the crowd to Jesus is considered a true act of charity.   

I like that thought. I think of myself as charitable and being willing to help others. Infact, I have done a lot of work with non-profits and still continue to do so. I think my parents did a good job picking the name, I grew in to it pretty well. Theresa suits my sister well too. She is very prayerful and has always been misunderstood by many, even me.  I also think she is the one that has never been afraid of change, of creating changes and is independent like Staint Theresa was.  There is an irony that we have traits of those Saints.  

My sister and I have always had a deep abiding faith in God.  I find it an honor and a blessing to carry a name of someone so close to Jesus on his route to the cross.  I also was touched to learn my sister has a name to match a Saint that has some parallels to her.  It makes me prefer the name Veronica to Ronni and sometimes wish she went by Theresa verses Terri.  

I have remained Catholic knowing this religion  was so important to my grandmother. I have found my home in this faith also.  It was a crucial part of her life.  I have always remembered a beautiful rosary she brought back from Italy years ago on a visit, one for each of her grandchildren. Unfortunately, I lost mine and it has always been a sore topic for me, such a strong connection to my grandmother, her faith and also mine.  

We sister and I fight less as we age. We find now we have more similarities than we realized. Funny how age shows you that.  We find perhaps those fights might have had to do with more in common instead of less.  Gone is the hate and now I don't think it was ever was really there. I think it was about life, our life,  about our frustration with our parents divorcing and not understanding what was going on in our home. She was an easy target for me and me for her. When that is put aside, there is a lasting bond that has survived much change, controversy and years of trials.

A year ago, my sister went to Italy. She was certain to visit Vatican City, something she always wanted to do for a variety of reasons.  We had wonderful memories of Grandma sharing pieces of her faith with us as little girls when she babysat us on visits up to her city.    Upon her return, my sister visited me. She held out a box and told me she had a gift for me . I could tell it was something very special.

As I held it in my hands, I thought I saw a tear in her eye. It was one of those moments where you have a feeling what you are about to see, experience will stay with you forever but you are not quite sure why, yet. I opened the box, slowly.  There lay a beautiful sparkling rosary, even more beautiful than the one I lost all those years ago from my beloved Grandmother, blessed by the Pope she brought me back from Italy to replace the one I had lost.

I then begun to realize, that sock was holy.

Old Age Has Sprung

She put on her apron and surveyed the area from her spot up on the hill by an old oak tree. It was spring and the church was having their annual family fun day, complete with an afternoon of games for the kids and a picnic dinner. The event, Spring has Sprung, was always held when the flowers were in full bloom.

Suzie was thrilled her mom had remembered to bring her easel and canvas so she could paint this year. She was too old to want to play with the younger children, being close to graduating now. She marveled at the gamut of colors on the hillside, so many shades of blues, yellows, reds and pales pinks as far as the eye could see. She could not even imagine how, with her limited colors of paints she could begin to capture all the colors before her on that blank canvas. But she knew she would have fun trying. And with that, she picked up her brush and began dabbling.

Suzie set to work, working diligently, with no comprehension whatsoever of the time she spent working on the painting. When she was immersed in painting, time stood still. This was a special place for her. She brought blots of color to life on that blank canvas with her skillful deft movements of the artist brush, just a flick here and there with her wrist and presto, form took place and the fleck of paint became life like. She slowly but surely caught the beauty of her surrounding that day in a way she was never able to capture before on any other spring day she had attempted. Perhaps, at some level, maybe she knew she would never return here. After this year, when she went away to college, she would never again return, as going to college would be followed with career days, then marriage and children and then the days of church festivals here in her hometown would be long gone and forgotten.

Suzie decided this time she would do more than sign her painting, she would name it, aptly name it the after annual event. She bent down and picked up her pen she used for calligraphy and started writing on the base of the image when she felt, rather than saw her younger sister’s presence behind her. Without turning she said, “Sissy, come out from behind that tree, I know you are there. You can look at my picture. It is almost done now anyways. Tell me what you think.”

Sissy came out, quickly actually and for once was not interested in the least in the picture. She talked quickly in a flurry of activity and Suzie had a hard time following her quick flow of chatter. She launched into a recounting of what she had overhead her momma and her aunt talking about over tea by the kitchen where the women were preparing the meal. She said it was about Grandma Tressa. They had not seen Grandma in ages and did not know why. Every time they asked what had happened they were told it was best to not bring it up around daddy as it upset him and that it was best to forget Grandma Tressa. But neither sister understood it because when they asked momma if she had died they were told no. What on earth had happened to her that was so horrible no one could talk about it or see her?

Finally Sissy blurted out the final comment she heard, “Grandma Tressa is in a home Suzie. They said her memory is totally gone now and she remembers nothing at all. It is best that she be left that way alone and be undisturbed.” They both looked at each other and hugged holding back their tears. Somehow the thought of their grandmother being alone, with or without her memory was too hard to bear. They told each other, in hushed tones, no matter what happened to either of them, if their memories ever failed them, they would never abandon each other like that, no matter what. For who knows for sure that one’s mind is ever truly gone. What if momma was wrong and grandma did remember some things and wondered why no one came to see her anymore?

Off Sissy ran to go chase some boy she was fond off and Suzzy when back to finishing the title of her painting. She stood back and looked at her final finished piece with admiration. All of the sudden, she felt someone shaking her shoulder. Gently at first, then more rigorously. Then she heard a slight muffled sound saying her name which steadily grew louder saying repeatedly Ms. Suzie. She yelled “Quit shaking me, you are going to knock me over and bump my painting’ but the voice paid her no attention. Finally she realized her eyes were glued shut and she opened them. As she did, she realized someone was peering down over her and she was lying flat down, on a bed. The woman over top of her had a nurse’s outfit on and the place smelled like a hospital, no actually more like an old folk’s home.

Now the voice, the nurse was saying’s. Suzie, you are getting harder and harder to wake up sweetie. I am sorry if I frighten you but I need you to take your medicine now. You always seem to forget to take it.” Suzie held out her hand instinctively for the pills to be placed in her palm. As she did so, she gazed down at the pills. Funny, she could not help but notice, for some reason, the gamut of colors the pills were, shades of pales colors, similar to the colors one would use to paint walls in a new home or to use to paint colors in a picture of pale sea shells. What a nice thought that was to her.

The nurse fluffed her pillow and told Suzie what day of the week it was and then asked her if she needed anything to drink. She half responded and muttered something back. As she went to lay back on her pillow, she saw a picture straight ahead from her. She asked the nurse “Where did that picture come from?” The nurse simply said “Someone mailed that to you and asked us to put it up directly across from your bed and so we hung it there while you were sleeping. Do you like it?” Suzzy said not a word as she stared at the picture. She simply leaned back on her pillow and let a tear slip out of her right eye.

The nurse closed the door quietly and Suzie stared at that picture with her fuzzy memory. She could barely read that inscription on the base of the image, Spring Has Sprung and she closed her eyes. She recalled bits and pieces of that day with joy. She saw the color, and could not help but smile at the thought of it. She thought she even felt that presence again, at one point, of her sister near her, just like in the old days. When she opened her eyes, realizing it was just a dream and time had slipped away, she was over come with a sense of sadness. She knew the memory would pass and one day, the memory of what the picture stood for might be gone. Who could help her remember when no one was there anymore in her life that knew about the festivals?

She decided it is best to put her mind on other thoughts when she again felt that prescence in the room again. Now she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, someone in the room. The stranger moved closer to her. It was a woman bearing an uncanny resemblance to her, but a few years younger and in much better health. She was smiling down at her and just sat on the bed with no hesitation and said simply said “I could never stay away from your beautiful paintings for long Suzy, remember?”