They met in 1951 at the Ford Plant
(now Ford City Mall). He affectionately called her "my child bride" even though
there was only a 6-year difference. She fell in love with his Irish wit and wisdom
and he fell for her Italian beauty and charm...not to mention the great food.
They were deeply in love and married on May 24, 1952. What a picture-perfect
childhood they provided for their 5 children. Mom was always happy and singing.
Dad worked hard 7 days a week, but belonged to us completely as soon as he got
home every night. What a beautiful example they gave us of a devout faith,
lived out in joyful love. I remember my Mom taking me to the dentist as a child,
and calming my fears with her sweet instructions to "offer it up". It was never
that bad with the Novocain. As I got older, I found out that Mom always declined
the Novocain for herself...so she could "offer it up." Then there was the time
my sister had broken both her arms and woke up in the middle of the night to see
our mother silently crying while watching her sleep. Surprised, she asked,
"Why are YOU crying?" To this day, she can hear our Mom's answer..." I wish
it was me, instead of you." I especially love the memory of our parents
returning home from a party, and we would ask them how it was...Dad would
always say immediately, "your mother was the prettiest one there!" and it
was true.
They were
the best parents any child could ever have, and they became our best friends as
adults, always looking for an opportunity to help us in any way. When I would
quibble with my Dad to let me pick up the dinner check for once, or let me carry
the luggage, "I’m an adult now...you should let me do something for you"...
he would smile and say, "Yes, but you'll always be my little girl." I loved that.
So there we sat...my sister and her
3 boys, and me...meeting Grandma and Grandpa for dinner at Palermo's Restaurant.
We were so looking forward to seeing them, since they recently returned from a trip
to Florida. The minutes dragged on. Our eyes were glued to the door. They must
have forgotten to bring their cell phone; otherwise, they would be calling to say
they were running late. Now my trauma nurse's mind began thinking about what
might have happened. We called our brother at the Fire Station. "Mom and Dad
are very late meeting us. Have there been any accidents?" "Yeah, there was a
big one on 115th and Central, but that wouldn't be them". My heart sank; he
didn't know where we were calling from. That's the route Dad would take from
Orland Park. Eerily, my brother had heard the entire call on the firemen’s'
radio. My sister-in-law and her boys drove past the wreck on the way to Christ
Hospital - they were so distraught at seeing the condition of their grandparents’
car, that one of the boys developed a severe nosebleed. Our parents had been
killed instantly. My brother, who is a policeman, broke the news to us, that
they were killed at the hands of a drunk driver speeding in a truck.
Scenes from the
“Passion of the Christ” played through my head that night and throughout the wake
and funeral. I felt the presence of the Sorrowful Mother accompanying us as we
began to walk our Way of the Cross. Thank you Fr. Dudley Day for your kind words
that we are "well represented in Heaven" now.
Thank you
Mom and Dad for giving us a deep faith in God, and your example in how to live it.
We miss you so much, our hearts ache, there is no Novocain to take away this pain,
and so we "offer it up."
