I lost my childhood today. In one text message, the fixture that had been grandfather left this earth to find solace amongst billions of eternal souls. I remember Christmas dinners with the family as I sat upstairs in his lazy boy chair; dreaming dreams of adulthood and enjoying the warmth of the pot belly stove illuminating the dark second floor. Your big screen television spilled images of the 1980’s across our young visages while family laughed together, played cards together, drank together and were for a moment in time: whole. For all the problems, for all the past pain, we were hopeful as Nanna brought in the Italian salad and Nannu sat at the head of the dining room table, elbows propped up, with his hands clasped together near his chin watching over the generations.
No words can touch the twinge (how do I describe this) in my soul of the loss culminating in the finality of death. What will happen to the white clapboard two story house I knew would always be a place I could go visit and know my Nannu would be waiting; sitting in his chair, listening to the television at its highest volume because he could not hear. I will not miss you for who you were, instead I will miss the moments in my life that you represented the best of what a family searched for. Remember…I would call you on the telephone, “Giusep, you there?” you would say and I would respond, “Nannu, it’s me Giuseppe” in a voice stretched to its limits so that you could hear each word.
You will always be my Nannu, a person that kept the fragile bonds of uncle, aunts, cousins, nephews, brother, sister, husband and wife balanced on the edge of the world’s precipice. I know you don’t remember this story as you look down from Heaven but I do. And if you recall please keep it between ourselves because I hold this memory dear to my heart. I hold it like a tender butterfly unable to share its beauty with the world lest it be diminished.
We were in our front yard and rumor spread my Aunt (your daughter) had been injured by her boyfriend. I looked to my Dad but there was another presence; a stronger presence that overpowered all in attendance. You told the men that the situation would be handled and in my youth, I was allowed to be part of the Chiaramonte men. I learned to solve a problem without assistance and sometimes all you need are those nearest to you; to place trust in the son and brother standing next to you. Your daughter was safe and our family moved together to make a wrong a right.
I don’t know you, and I probably don’t want to know the whispers I heard of your anger, the violence you would mete out upon those that crossed your path on a bad day or in some instances a good day. The man I knew was a figurehead and loved me as best he could. You looked at me and uttered three words without reservations; lavishing love in a manner that was unfettered by the constraints of this world. I learned from you a man must say, “I love you” while looking the other man in the eyes with the understanding there was truth behind those words.
I don’t know what legacy you left behind. Warmth, familiar smells, sounds of laughter, hide and seek in your long closets; thank you for your second floor where I felt safe among the cousins, in a cocoon spun by the fibers of our culture, heritage, faith and family. Avocado’s bursting from the trees, water lapping against the sides of the pool, mom lying on the beach chair soaking up the sun while you moved effortlessly amongst your trophies in the garden. I ran to the pomegranate tree picking one after another from the tree that was bent from the weight of innumerable red fruit from the Gods, then turn and run free down the walkway to the olive barrel. Oh, how I would savor the salty olive treats knowing they were made with pride the Sicilian way. My hand still wet, sticky from the briny solution; I stood savoring the tomato’s hanging like red rubies, the beans swaying in the wind, the pigeons cooing in the coop. Do you remember wrestling in the front yard with me? I’ll never forget Nannu how you held me down, gently making sure not to hurt me but impressing on me the strength had not left you and for all my youthful vigor, I still could not overcome muscles built from years of tilling the earth.
Will you be angry with me if I shed no tears for you? I can’t; for the decades passed like shadows under the sun. I knew you would answer the phone when I called, or be in the house on Adobe lane waiting to smile at me for no other reason than I am your grandson, or I would hear your health problems were severe yet you always overcame them until now. I am happy for you Nannu. I know it must have been lonely at times sitting in your chair reading the multiple newspapers lying on the ground strewn about your feet but you persevered. I will carry you with me in fond memories, with loving remembrance, proud in who I am and where I come from and reflect your unconditional love as I say “I love you” to my son without reservation. This is my attempt to make sense of your death; I hope you don’t mind because these words are my tears spilled on the pages as a tribute to your legacy. So Nannu, sit gently among legends, talk amongst the heroes of Normandy, Okinawa and Guam, say “Hi” to Nanna and let your spirit sway gently in the breeze of God’s eternal love. I will not be able to call you anymore to hear “I love you” but I will close my eyes and…