Category: Family

When I think of the word lady, my mind immediately conjures up thoughts of a lighthearted, polished, refined, virtuous woman with a genuine smile and a warm concern for others.  She has a youthful spirit and, while she knows how to act properly in all situations, she is comfortable in her skin and is able to let her hair down a little; embracing moments of being carefree.

That was Anna, my mother.  I never really came to see these qualities in her until after she left this world.  I was only twenty-three.  Today marks 21 years since I last looked into those sparkling eyes or saw that incredible smile; yes, flashed even in the midst of horrific pain. That was Anna.

Those who met my mother – even if it had been for a brief time – never forgot her. She had a way with being able to pull out the best in people and make them feel special. In my youth, I used to be embarrassed with how she would talk to everyone she met; no matter where we went my mother could strike up a conversation. I used to think she was a nut and wanted to shrink away. Funny thing, I’ve ended up doing the same thing and embarrassing my own children in public.

Anna was generous. 

She wasn’t a pretentious woman. If she had it and you wanted, or needed it, it was yours. On more than one occasion we had visitors who admired a nick-knack in our living room curio. This prompted a quick opening of the glass door and a retrieval of the item, only to be carefully wrapped in newspaper and handed to the admirer. Upon protest to the gift, my mother would flash a smile and say, “Nonsense! Now you have something to remember me by.”  (As if anyone needed a nick-knack to do so.)

Our home was always warm and inviting. Not one room was unused. Many of my friends would marvel at the fact we could sit on her imported Italian sofa or chairs in the living room and eat at her formal dining room table. These were off-limits in their homes. Anna always believed that the home was to be a place where happy memories were made, not only for the grownups, but for us children as well.

One memory comes to mind: When I was fifteen, my girlfriend and I wanted to impress a few guy friends for Valentine’s Day. My mother (who loved to entertain) enthusiastically gave us carte blanche to her china cabinet and let us deck out the dining room table in her choice linen, china, and stemware; making sure I polished sterling silver candelabras ahead of time so we could set a romantic mood with candles. What mother did that?

Anna was trusting.

It was not until in my adulthood that I understood the simplicity of trust my mother possessed. She had no reason to distrust anyone because, she herself, was most trustworthy. She had the kind of faith in people that amazed many. I don’t know too many mothers who would hand the keys of her car over to the friends of her underage daughter. Yes, my mother trusted my friends completely.  When they were sixteen, she allowed them to take the car so that we could all go out. For the most part we never betrayed that trust. She always seemed to command an adherence to the rules just by her smile and faith in you.

Anna was loving.

You did not come into my mother’s presence without receiving a hug. She thought everyone was family, and you were treated that way. From the moment you met her, you knew this woman possessed something rare. She never judged and was always quick to make excuses for the bad behavior in others.

My mother could be sitting at a corner stop light, watching someone rob a bank and her first thought would be, “That poor man must be in dire straits having to resort to this to feed his family.”  This is how Anna’s mind worked.

If she saw someone in need, whether it be a homeless person, a mother upset in line at the grocery store, or a crying teenage friend of mine, my mother would wrap her arms around them and offer what she could to help them through their dilemma. Often times it would involve coming to our home and feeding them. She had food to fix everything. I can’t count the times I’d bring a friend over after school and want to start playing, only to have Anna pull a snack out of the oven or refrigerator. That snack turned into a mini feast! More times than not, included in that mini feast was her notorious Pepperoni Bread. It was her signature snack.

Anna was forgiving.

As a youth, I was the recipient of much teasing. I used to be tormented by the unkind words of others. I remember my mother telling me that when people did this, it wasn’t so much that they didn’t like me, but it was that they were really unhappy with themselves. She believed that those who were jealous, envious, or resentful took their anger out on those who possessed happiness. Our job was to respond with forgiveness; always turning the other cheek so that we can give them a second chance. I can’t say that I liked this advice. After all, when people hurt me, the first inclination is to hurt back. Many times I would cry on her shoulder, explaining I just couldn’t do it. She’d smile and look at me with those big brown eyes and say, “I know it’s hard, but try. In the end you may be surprised. They may just turn into a friend.” Surprisingly, this was the outcome more than once. The woman was not a college graduate, but she was one smart cookie!

Anna was wise. 

She seemed to have an ability to know what to say and when to say it, as well as when to hold her tongue. When I hit my teen years rebellion bloomed in my personality. If you said “not to”, I made it a point “to”. She knew in order to get me to do what it was she wanted she had to be creative.

I remember one such time: I was nineteen and had gone out with friends. Because I looked older than may age, I could sneak into bars and drink at my leisure. This particular night I returned home three sheets under the wind. Approaching the top landing of the second floor, I performed the routine knock on her door to tell her I was home then proceeded to carry on a conversation about the Mexican restaurant I recently left.

Once on my bed, the room began to spin. As clouds predict a storm, so did the spinning. In a few short moments my room, the hallway, and the bathroom were christened with the spirits enjoyed earlier in the evening. My mother met me in the hall. After I explained it must have been the Mexican food, she bade me goodnight.

Early the next morning there she was at my side, gently shaking my shoulders, “Sweetheart, I need a big favor today. Could you please help me polish the paneling in the family room?” I come from a time when you never refused your parents, especially when they asked so nicely. Words cannot describe the discomfort I endured having to complete the task. We never spoke of the incident, nor did I ever enter her home in that condition again. To this day I can’t use Murphy’s Oil Soap without my stomach turning.

Anna was fun.

An intoxicating laughter abounded in this woman. She was young at heart and could make any mundane thing enjoyable. Growing up on the East Coast, we had some long winters. I remember one year – I must have been about nine or ten – she brought our ping-pong table into our family room, opened it up and suggested we use blankets and build a fort underneath it. My sister and I had a ball under there for weeks. My mother would let us eat our lunches in the little kitchen we configured, and would even crawl in with us to tell stories. As I grew, she never lost that side of her. Even toward the end of her life she was quick to tell a joke or shine humor onto a most devastating situation.

Anna was reliable. 

My mother was big to volunteer and many people counted on her because they knew she would come through on her promises. She was also this way with her children. If Italian cookies were needed at the last minute for a school function, she would be baking until the wee hours. If sewing needed to be completed, many nights the hum of the sewing machine could be heard well after the house was dark. If my father needed shirts to be ironed for an early morning flight, she was on it.

I remember one night my sister and I were playing Barbies in my father’s study while my mother was working on a navy blue, crushed-velvet dress for an event she and my father were to attend. (She was a beautiful seamstress.) My sister and I were talking about the fact that our Barbies needed coats. The next morning, neatly lying on the kitchen table, were two navy blue crushed-velvet coats. They were long with white fur trim, made especially for our dolls. Yes, this was Anna.

There are so many wonderful things I can say about this lady. She was an exceptional cook and made sure her girls could find their way around a kitchen. She loved to entertain and was at her happiest when the house was filled with a lot of people on which she could dote. My mother always did without so that we children could have. I never appreciated this until I had my own children.

Anna believed in family.

Family was the most important thing to my mother – extended and intimate. She told us that blood was thicker than water, and no matter what the discrepancy, you always find a way to make peace.

One of the happiest times I saw her was shortly before her death when she and her sisters were reunited after years of quiet tension. I remember the day I took a bold step to call my aunts, sharing the news of my mother’s advanced cancer and asking that they please let whatever had come between all of them be a thing of the past.

It was a beautiful surprise to have those who were able make immediate plans to fly out for a visit before my mother was too sick to enjoy them. How Anna lamented those wasted years and wished she could have enjoyed her sisters, brothers-in-law, and their children! It’s tragic that it takes death to bring people together. We have but a short time on this earth; we ought not to squander it with ill feelings and stubborn pride.

There are two sayings I will forever associate with Anna. “What can happen in a year, can happen in a day.” My mother had an unlimited amount of hope. She believed in dreaming big and encouraged everyone else to do so, too. She always reminded us that anything is possible so never give up!

Her other saying was, “Always look for the positive in people.” She believed there was good in everyone and made it her life goal to bring out the best in others.

As an adult, I have come to see the beauty in all that my mother possessed. I didn’t appreciate her when I was young. I took her for granted and saw many of these qualities as foolish. For this, I will always hold a note of sorrow. Now, raising my own family, I see that her insatiable zest for life was contagious! To be in her presence, one easily absorbed that energy and felt loved. I pray one day I can become a quarter of the lady she was and touch half as many people as she did.

Mommy, I miss you so very, very much and I love you dearly. Thank you for all that you have taught me.