Blackbird fly. Into the light of the dark black night
On Saturday, April 8, 2017 at 5:20am my Nonno passed away.
He was diagnosed with cancer 2 months ago. A cancer that was eating at him for who knows how long.
He died with his children and wife beside him.
This was the most brutal weekend of my life since my Dad's death and funeral.
I was staying with my Nonna all through this, otherwise she would've been left alone. So the only time I cried was the last time I went up to the casket and held his hand for one final moment.
My anger consumed me, as it always does. So that mixed with the shock allowed me to get through everything.
It wasn't until my long drive home Tuesday night. It was the weirdest thing. I had my ipod playing for the whole hour and a half drive, but it was like it was just background music and I was super focused on the task of the road. Then when I was about 5 minutes from home Florence and the Machine Shake It Out acoustic version came on. I wasn't paying attention, but as soon as she sang the third verse And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way fuck. I don't know what the hell happened. I sobbed like I don't think I ever have. It was everything I felt in the last two months. Everything I felt I think for my Nonna as well. My body was shaking like I don't ever remember being this way. If I wasn't only a few metres from the off ramp I would've had to pull over.
I will miss his laugh the most. Especially when he starts laughing while telling a story, and then you can't understand the rest of it. I got that from him.
His love for his grandkids I feel was different then the rest of my grandparents. I can't explain it, but it was different. I loved him different right back. We were his legacy, and maybe because he was adopted that meant more to him. I'm not sure what it was. But there were times in my life I felt he loved me more than my parents did. He was a wonderful, caring person.
He went through so much shit in his life, but he was so optimistic, and had such a strong capacity for forgiveness. I definitely did not get that from him.
My very favourite memories of him are probably when I was about 4-7 years old. He was always working. Sometimes he did that work in front of the TV on the coffee table...so I would join him with my colouring books and we would sit there side by side both busy in our work.
But most of the time, he was in his basement office. And all but once, he ALWAYS let me in there no matter how busy he was. He would set me up with paper and pens, his electric calculator, a few empty invoices..and while he was busy with work we would simultaneously be playing “office”, and I would be his secretary.
I would scribble all over paper (which was supposed to be my attempt at cursive writing), and it was important documents that he had to sign. I would write out fake invoices he would have to pay. I used the calculator and pretended it was a typewriter (though a couple times he let me use the actual typewriter). He would pretend the phone would ring and pass it to me because it was an “urgent call”.
And sometimes he would actually give me real numbers to type into the calculator to add things up for him on a printed receipt. And that was the best. He trusted me for something real.
When he was done, and ready to join the world upstairs, we could never go up until we had a dance. It was usually some Italian song, or maybe something classical. We would step onto the tiled floor, I would stand on his feet, and he would dance me around the basement kitchen, as we laughed and laughed.
It was the best time. He was the best man.
I will miss him. And love him always.
He was diagnosed with cancer 2 months ago. A cancer that was eating at him for who knows how long.
He died with his children and wife beside him.
This was the most brutal weekend of my life since my Dad's death and funeral.
I was staying with my Nonna all through this, otherwise she would've been left alone. So the only time I cried was the last time I went up to the casket and held his hand for one final moment.
My anger consumed me, as it always does. So that mixed with the shock allowed me to get through everything.
It wasn't until my long drive home Tuesday night. It was the weirdest thing. I had my ipod playing for the whole hour and a half drive, but it was like it was just background music and I was super focused on the task of the road. Then when I was about 5 minutes from home Florence and the Machine Shake It Out acoustic version came on. I wasn't paying attention, but as soon as she sang the third verse And I've been a fool and I've been blind
I can never leave the past behind
I can see no way, I can see no way fuck. I don't know what the hell happened. I sobbed like I don't think I ever have. It was everything I felt in the last two months. Everything I felt I think for my Nonna as well. My body was shaking like I don't ever remember being this way. If I wasn't only a few metres from the off ramp I would've had to pull over.
I will miss his laugh the most. Especially when he starts laughing while telling a story, and then you can't understand the rest of it. I got that from him.
His love for his grandkids I feel was different then the rest of my grandparents. I can't explain it, but it was different. I loved him different right back. We were his legacy, and maybe because he was adopted that meant more to him. I'm not sure what it was. But there were times in my life I felt he loved me more than my parents did. He was a wonderful, caring person.
He went through so much shit in his life, but he was so optimistic, and had such a strong capacity for forgiveness. I definitely did not get that from him.
My very favourite memories of him are probably when I was about 4-7 years old. He was always working. Sometimes he did that work in front of the TV on the coffee table...so I would join him with my colouring books and we would sit there side by side both busy in our work.
But most of the time, he was in his basement office. And all but once, he ALWAYS let me in there no matter how busy he was. He would set me up with paper and pens, his electric calculator, a few empty invoices..and while he was busy with work we would simultaneously be playing “office”, and I would be his secretary.
I would scribble all over paper (which was supposed to be my attempt at cursive writing), and it was important documents that he had to sign. I would write out fake invoices he would have to pay. I used the calculator and pretended it was a typewriter (though a couple times he let me use the actual typewriter). He would pretend the phone would ring and pass it to me because it was an “urgent call”.
And sometimes he would actually give me real numbers to type into the calculator to add things up for him on a printed receipt. And that was the best. He trusted me for something real.
When he was done, and ready to join the world upstairs, we could never go up until we had a dance. It was usually some Italian song, or maybe something classical. We would step onto the tiled floor, I would stand on his feet, and he would dance me around the basement kitchen, as we laughed and laughed.
It was the best time. He was the best man.
I will miss him. And love him always.