ANGEL IN-LAW

In-laws have been the brunt of comical jokes; a source for songwriters and an easy target for movies like "Monster-In-Law.  Portrayed by Jane Fonda, she  gave the audience a vivid picture of someone who was unbearable and manipulative.

I've heard horror stories from friends and family members whose own mothers-in-law subjected them to ridicule and open hostility. I adore my mother-in-law. My special name for her is, Granny Mom.

Long before I fell in love with my husband, Dave, I fell in love with her first. I thought if he had only half of her many qualities, he'd be perfect. Of course, back then, I didn't realize he'd also have half of his father's characteristics. (Just kidding).

I've learned a lot from this genteel soft-spoken Southern lady. She never says anything unkind and has taught me tolerance and commitment. Her mantra has been: "I may not always like my husband, but I will always be in-love with him."  She is the personification of a devoted wife and mother; self-sacrificing and unselfish and placing everyone else's needs above her own. 

She can discuss sensitive topics with intelligence and tact. Even at 89 years old, she has an open mind and a desire to learn as much as she can. Her mind is as sharp as a tack; her heart still tender and though her body is now frail and weak, she finds strength to carry her husband's coffee to him every morning on a tray.

Because of her, our dinner table is filled with animated conversation and sometimes heated debates. You would love to be a fly on the wall, hearing her and her son going back and forth. She is a strong Democrat and my husband listens to Rush. Need I say more?

She has been such a comfort to me;  tolerant of my faults and sincerely loving me in spite of them. Without fail, she is gracious and compassionate and always makes me feel appreciated.

The truth is, whatever I've given her, she has given it back ten-fold. I've been blessed in having this beautiful soul in my life. 

I don't know many people who can claim to have an Angel-In-Law.

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN......

When my Nanna died of cancer in October of 1977 I had too much on my plate to deal with losing one of the most influential people in my life. Though the pain was staring at me like a plate full of disgusting Brussel sprouts, rather than eating it and digesting it, I shoved it all around my plate and separated it in a little compartment. I locked it up. I covered it without giving myself the time to heal by placing a napkin over it. Like Scarlett,

My Nanna on the far left with my Momma and my son David as an infant.

"I would think about it tomorrow". I would cry my eyes out tomorrow.

Tomorrow never came and I robbed my Nanna of something she deserved: My undivided heart. I was numb and I moved on with my life like a robot because the grand-daughter she loved more than life was too self-absorbed in her own personal problems; a pregnancy; a pending divorce; a custody battle and a search for a job without a penny to my name, not to mention having to buy a car.

On the day of my Nanna's funeral, I wasn't allowed the dignity of mourning her passing. A process server found me by her gravesite and handed me my divorce papers. But that was no excuse. How self-centered of me! She deserved more from me and it's past time for me to make amends. I have no doubt that she forgave me.  I'm the one who never forgave myself.

I've been told that I take after her. I hope so. Maybe there is something to be said about that old gene pool. She was always ready to go anywhere at any time in a moment's notice. Despite the generation gap, she was the one who went with me to the USF campus to hear Mark Lane speak about his book and the assassination of JFK. My Nanna is the one who marched with me through downtown Tampa in protest of what happened at Kent State.

This woman had no fear; no reservations in speaking her mind and more importantly in following her heart. She enlightened my definition of truth because it isn't always absolute. She didn't follow; she liked to lead. She wasn't a Democrat or a Republican; she voted for the man she felt would make a great leader; one who would be strong enough to carry through on promises that were made and one who would fight to preserve peace. If she was alive today, who would she vote for?  I would venture to guess that she wouldn't vote for either candidate. She would have probably initiated her own campaign, organized a different party and would have promoted a new voice in government. And she would have won. Yes, she was that powerful and yes, I'm exaggerating.

She didn't particularly like to cook but loved to entertain and could set a table fit for a king as long as it was understood that she was the queen that reined. She loved to travel and attended the opera and plays on Broadway; She could discuss politics and make a politician break out in a sweat with her brilliant mind and sharp wit. I witnessed it myself. Her free time wasn't wasted on trivia. She read all the literary classics. Once I saw her take an encyclopedia and read it from cover to cover. She taught herself how to read, write, and speak French, Italian and Spanish. She spoke English as if she were born in America without a trace of an Italian accent.

If I have an ounce of courage or any small measure of her intelligence I consider it a direct blessing from her. If I am an avid reader it's because of her. If I write anything at all, it's because of her encouragement and her faith in me and my ability. Her unconditional love definitely overrated me and my talents. I lack her ambition and her perseverance. I am neither a leader or a follower. I am disorganized and rather scattered where she was neat, organized and highly motivated. Taking action was her mantra.

But, I do have her passion for life; her quest to seek justice and truth by listening to both sides of an argument and to keep an open mind.  No matter how old I am, I still have a desire to learn new things and explore different avenues. What would I have done without this amazing woman who helped my mother raise me? Yes, we are a dramatic lot, us Italians and in our case slightly dysfunctional. But, we knew how to love and laugh and even fight without losing respect for each other. She got so mad at me once, she cut up my Indian moccasins with a pair of scissors. But, the next day, with tears rolling down her face, she patched them together again. Would you believe those shoes became even more special to me? I wore them with pride and a little humor accompanied each and every step I took. How many shoes have a story to tell? That would be an interesting avenue to take. Maybe on another blog.

So, this is for You, my beautiful Nanna - a dedication long over-due. My anguish and guilt; my tears of pain have been replaced with tears of joy and gratitude for having you in my life. I remember your words of wisdom and can hear the sound of your laughter. I can still see the twinkle in your eyes as well as the love behind them. That's a blessing in itself. What I've written today is embedded in my soul; it will travel beyond to other dimensions so that you can feel my love, devotion and respect.  I LOVE YOU NANNA with every beat of my heart. Until We Meet Again...