How the years come...
and how they go...
and oh, how much love is in my heart for my grandmother, Adriana.
She is a member of the FBI...a Full Blooded Italian. Italian is her native language and if you are really lucky, you can get her to speak it.
She is a long-time survivor...of depression.
She is a widow...to one of the most amazing men I have known, my Nonno Ernie.
She is...an avid reader.
She loves stationery...I'm pretty certain that's who I've got that love from.
It's difficult for her to write, in fact, I don't know if she can anymore, but when she did, she signed all her cards with"Lovingly"...so I had it inscribed in Erik's wedding band when we got married.
She is and always has been very generous...making sure to know the mailman or the paper boy (back in the day), or taking me and my Cousin Catherine
on a trip of a lifetime to Italy for our college graduation.
She is 89 and ailing, but it doesn't stop her from loving.
She gets frustrated that she can't be and do all the things that she once did, yet she still
appreciates a visit from her daughter, her granddaughter and her great-grandkids.
She is...my only living grandparent. I don't visit her as much as I would like, but when I do, I make sure that she knows that she is a gift. I make sure to poke a little fun at her, 'cause if anyone can it's me, and she'll still take a joke. I make sure that she knows how very much I love her and I thank her for being my grandmother. I make sure that the kids give her a hug and a kiss. "You know how much you love Nonna?" "Yes", they reply. "That's how much I love my Nonni!"
They don't know my Nonni like I do, but they know how much I love her and that matters to them.
Love is love.
Though Nonni tires easily and our time with her is brief, it's just enough. Just enough for her, I believe, to have the hands that she cared for for so many years...
care for, and hold her right back.