72 – Mom

Happy Mother’s Day weekend to the all mothers

Click the video above for 2 minutes of background waves while reading.

I like walking on the beach. It’s good for the mind, body, and soul – and refreshing on my feet.

I think of my mother. How difficult it must have been to come to America – a new country – with a 3-month old, a husband, and not knowing the language. She integrated into small-town-America life, but she was fortunate to have other Italian families in the town and area.

I think about my mother as she and I returned to Italy for 6-8 months, the year before I started first grade. It was her first trip back to see her mother, father, three sisters, and a brother since leaving for America with a newborn and without knowing the language. I was five years old, arriving knowing primarily English, but I returned only knowing Italian. Oh, how the young mind absorbs language.

I think about our return six years later. This time our entire family of four. I didn’t realize until many years later that the passing of my grandfather initiated the summertime journey that gave me my first plane ride.

On an overlook in her hometown. My grandmother was born in the village above her head.

I think about my mother receiving a letter that my grandmother died. How lonely of a feeling that must have been for her, yet I recall not knowing what to tell her.

I think about my mother displaying kindness and acceptance from the first day she met the one who eventually became my wife … and that would never change. My wife still remembers her first exposure to a festive meal involving homemade ravioli as a side dish – not the main course.

I think about my mother returning to Italy to see her sisters a few more times – but without me. I was older – either in college or working.

I think about my mother battling cancer for three years. First, a breast; then the liver three years later. She never wanted the rounds of chemo and radiation – but she took it all.

On a bridge leading to the family apartment

I think about the phone call I received from my mother sometime during that three-year battle. She in Florida – Me in Ohio. Crying, she said words not commonly spoken in our house – “I love you.”

I think about various events around the day of her passing. The timing with the start of a new school year causing me to miss the first two days with students. Me getting the idea to speak at her funeral – not a eulogy – but a sermon. Somehow, I did it with confidence and without a whimper.

I think about my mother smiling on my return to Italy in 2013 – a trip when I visited my mother’s only surviving sister – my aunt that I had seen in 48+ years. Seeing two first cousins I hadn’t seen since then, plus meeting two first cousins for the first time.

I think about my mother as I passed her family’s home with tears streaming from my eyes. The old apartment building where I spent 6-8 months. A building that is now abandoned, but showing the possibility of a new life.

I think about my mother dying young – a month shy of her 59th birthday – and to think my life has surpassed hers by 9 years.

Looking back, my mother was something that many didn’t think of her as – not even me – but now I realize she was courageous. She was blessed with the courage to trust those around her.

This is Mother’s Day weekend – but I wrote this post after a beach walk on my February birthday, but I saved it for this special day. Thinking about my mother was a good reflection for my day. I like walking on the beach, which is good for the mind, body, and soul – and refreshing on my feet.

See what other bloggers have written about oneness

• Mother (poem)
• Mother Knows Better (poem)
• Mother (a collection of personal poems)
• Turning into My Mother (personal essay)

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