Last week I attended a funeral and this one, like all funerals, caused me to drop all the business of life and consider the memories my life is making. My husband’s grandmother, Margaret DiDio, died at 95 years old. Although she journeyed here from Sicily as a teenager, till the day she died her English was almost swallowed up by a very heavy Italian accent we all cherished. She became a bride at 17 to Chris’s grandfather, who was 35.
This couple went on to have 6 children who knew the committed love of their mother and father. They understood that family, for all its good and bad, was an unbreakable bond. The kids learned early on that everyone pitched in and life was meant to be shared. The siblings all joke how one toy belonged to everyone so God help the child who broke it!
As the family grew, Margaret brought laundry and tailoring in to the home to help put food on the table. That food was pasta, everyday, as Chris’s dad Angelo likes to point out with a grimace. Ang jokes whatever else they managed to have, didn’t matter what it was, it went in the pasta pot. This is why Angelo today is the only Italian I know who doesn’t eat pasta!
Angelo and his five siblings all knew when they returned home from school there was tailoring and laundry work to help their mother with before they were set free to play. When they found ways to earn money outside the home, the money wasn’t considered theirs. This was money to help keep the family afloat. Whatever little bit they managed to hold back on the sly was like a kings ransom jingling in their pockets as they made their way to the corner store for candy.
When I first met Margaret over 20 years ago she welcomed me into her Baltimore home and I was ushered right past the immaculate plastic covered living room furniture, down to the basement. I wondered why we weren’t visiting upstairs, until I was met with the aroma of her sauce as I entered the basement. I realized immediately, this is the room where family happened. My senses were electric with the smells of her legendary sauce and the loud commotion of a family all talking and laughing at the same time.
This was the place where the light as air pizzas with no cheese were created. This was the place where Chris told me he would eat until he felt like he was going to burst. This was the place where babies were born and lost, marriages were made and broken, stories were told and retold, laugher and tears flowed as easily as the wine, dreams were born and died, lives were encouraged and loved ones were remembered. This was where family was grown, not the fairy tale kind that only exists between the pages of books, but the nit and grit of everyday family life. This was where bonds went through the fire and found strength resolved.
It was immediately obvious that Margaret took a quiet delight in preparing food for the people she loved, while she was surrounded by them. Her cooking was undaunted by all the chaos that surrounded her. One of her great grandson’s was racing around the kitchen running head first into the wall. At this point I was years away from having children so when Grandmom yelled, ‘Anthony, Anthony what are you doin’, your gonnna breaka my wall!’ I erupted into laughter. The wall I thought, no concern for his head?
Now that I have three boys, I get it. Grandmom had already raised three little boys and she was well aware that walls give much more quickly than little boy heads!
As I sat at her wake, I couldn’t help but remember ‘you breaka my wall” and Grandmom's quick smile with sweet nostalgia. Her son Sam spoke at her service, ‘you know, when I came home from being out I’d always say, ‘mom, I’m home.’ I just always assumed I was the most important thing to her and she knew it was me when I said that. That’s home and that’s the kind of mom she was. She made everyone feel special.”
Sam went on to talk of trips to the beach where neighbors would all caravan along with their family. Metal baby wash tubs full of fried chicken and pasta were all strapped to the top of the car. I can just imagine what the house must have smelled like for days as Grandmom spent cooking to prepare for these trips.
Grandmom had a stroke several months ago and when it was time for her to leave the hospital, her daughter Evelyn who she lived with said, ‘I’ll continue to care for Mom.’ This strong woman who had spent her entire life caring for all around her would now need care and it would be in the loving hands of those she had spent her life caring for.
After the stroke Grandmom was unable to care for the home she shared with her daughter’s family or prepare food she was famous for her whole life. Unable even to get down the stairs without assistance, Grandmom was confined to her bedroom for most of the day. This was not a life Grandmom had ever known and it was not one she would adjust to.
A beloved neighbor, who I’m sure never measured five feet tall in her highest heels, also from Italy told me of her relationship to Grandmom. “I called Margaret ‘Mom’ because she told me to. She said I was like another daughter to her and she was like a mother to me.’ She said this with a distinct mix of pride and obvious loss. She went on to tell me how she and Grandmom would sit on the front stoop speaking Italian to one another, reminiscing about the old country. Wouldn’t I have loved to be an Italian fly on the wall during those times!
Grandmom lost her will to live when she stopped being able to care for the ones she loved. When a life has spent 95 years caring for others the switch to being cared for is not an easy one. Laying back to be cared for was just not in the DNA of this strong woman. Friends and relatives tried to cheer Grandmom up and set her sights towards getting better but her reply was, ‘I no happy. I ready to die.’ Problem is, no one was ready to let her go.
The family gathered together after her funeral at Carrabbas to share a meal in Grandmom’s honor. The time would have been exactly as Grandmom would have had it: plates piled high with pasta, wine glasses full, raucous laugher, story telling hinting at the DiDio connection to the mob, singing, Aunt Edie teaching the little boys how to do a James Cagney “you dirty rat” gangster impression, and more laughter.
Grandmom’s love of cooking was something she shared with Chris’s mom Joyce. Anyone who knows Joyce has at least three dishes they look forward to having when they go the DiDio’s to do life together. Annually, to the delight of all who attend, Joyce reproduces Grandmom’s meatball soup at her Christmas party. Grandmom taught Joyce to prepare dishes with a reassuring ‘”it comes good” as they shared time in the kitchen. Joyce’s love of cooking was something I was introduced to as a teenager who must have eaten pounds of shrimp creole in their old Klee Court kitchen. It was difficult for me to say what I enjoyed more, the food or the time spent around the table long after the food was done. I have gone on to establish time around the table, sharing life, over mounds of food as a foundation in my home. Reaching out with love and food is just the DiDio way.
I’m struck by this legacy of time around the table sharing life and how it’s thread has been woven into all the DiDio homes. I'm struck by Jesus' example of sharing meals with those He was building into, those He loved. The photos that show our family around the table doing the everyday business required to build strong bonds from within are some of my favorites. I say this to encourage you to spend time around the table as a family. Tell your stories so they may be carried on to future generations. Take pictures that show the bonds within your family for they will be the ones that tell your story to future generations! Let your story of God’s goodness be told and retold around the table in a way that inspires future generations to invest in the love God has placed in their lives!
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"A good woman is hard to find, and worth far more than diamonds. First thing in the morning, she dresses for work, rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started. She senses the worth of her work, is in no hurry to call it quits for the day. She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth, diligent in home making. She's quick to assist anyone in need, reaches out to help the poor. She always faces tomorrow with a smile. When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say, and she always says it kindly. She keeps an eye on everyone in her household, and keeps them all busy and productive. Her children respect and bless her; her husband joins in with words of praise: 'many woman have done wonderful things, but you've outclassed them all!'" Proverbs 31 excerpts
**these photos are an homage to Grandmom DiDio’s inspired Italian creations in my kitchen. Thanks Grandmom for sharing your love of Italian cooking so we would realize all the delight awaiting us in tiramisu, bruschetta, italian bread, sauce, pizza, tomato caprese, meatball soup, minestrone, zupa toscana, and stromboli!
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