Archive | March, 2013

March 28, 2013

29 Mar

Hello Moother,

So Miami made it to the sweet sixteen. We lost tonight, and here is why I think that happened. 

1. You were watching this game, weren’t you? 

I. thought. we. had. an. agreement. 

You promised, after a very mediocre football season a couple years ago, that you would stop watching games. Our success was directly correlated with your loyalty and viewership. 

How dare you. 

When Lucy’s viewership was 100%, Miami’s winnership (yeah, I made that word up) was 0%. 

Why? During the tournament? Why?

What the h?

Justin and I know you were watching. Whatever. We know. We know what you did. ::shakes head disapprovingly::

At halftime, Justin confessed that he was wearing a Miami shirt you got him and had to change. What more proof do we need? In fact, during the first half, I said, “Momma is clearly watching this game.” 

Momma why? We thought we had this. Our brackets are totally screwed. 

Can we please reiterate this agreement? No more Miami games for you. We appreciate your attempt to show your love for the Canes, but if you really loved us, you’d stop watching games from Heaven. 

Clearly, Jesus wanted us to lose tonight. And it is Holy week so, yeah. Whatever the Lord wants…

See you in my dreams, maybe, if you’re lucky.

Good night.

G and J

p.s. rice balls


March 22, 2013

23 Mar

Hello Moother,

I have a guilty admission to make today. The past few days I have been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to feel like I miss you. I’ve thought about you, but I haven’t really cried or anything like that. Well, until today. I feel terrible about it. 

I also have been in a depressed mood all day and when Justin asked me what was wrong, I just didn’t want to tell him. He was mad that I didn’t want to talk about it, but I’m not sure what the point of that would be. 

These past few weeks I’ve been feeling very blah. I have not been a pleasure to be around. I’ve dreaded going to work. It’s not good. I’m sure if I went to a therapist, I’d be told I’m going through a depression. I feel the way I did when I was in college and depressed. I would love to just sleep through the days and wake up and it be summer. 

Oh well. I’ll go over it like I did the first time. 

Love you,


March 19, 2013

19 Mar

Hello Moother,

I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s been really tough these past few days–weeks really. On Friday, I drove to Florida to be at the memorial mass at Holy Family. Father Eddie did a wonderful job with the mass. He said some very beautiful things and referred to you a few times as a saint. 

The readings were also very beautiful. I don’t know who chose them, but they read Proverbs 31:10-31 which is the “The Good Wife” and a letter to the Romans about suffering which brings you closer to God. 

Miss Pat played the most beautiful songs and sang them with so much heart, as she always does. It was nice to see familiar faces. I was a bit disappointed that only one friend, Katrina, made it. I was surprised that my closer friends who live in our hometown would have made it. 

As nice as the mass was, it was very painful. I felt the same pain that I did when we buried you in Canada. The mass was very good for those who attended. It gave them closure, or peace of mine–it gave them something. I don’t think I can ever have any of those things. 

The most painful part of the weekend however was not the service. It was walking into the house and knowing you weren’t there. Knowing you weren’t going to be coming back from an errand or work. Ever. 

As I lay in bed, all I kept thinking about was how you returned to your parents’ house for almost thirty years without losing your mind. How the hell did you that? I never noticed you in any kind of pain at Nonno Pepino’s house. In fact, I was so foolish I didn’t even realize that it would have even been painful. 

I would love to keep chatting, but I have a mountain of things to tackle in the next few days so I’ll check in with you as soon as can. 

Love you,


p.s. Please come visit me soon. 


March 17, 2013

18 Mar

Hello Moother,

Just found out I’m getting a story published! I’m sooooooooooooooooo happy. The last thing I got published was the essay I wrote. It went up the day before you died. Soooo happy! 

That is all.


March 10, 2013

10 Mar

Hello Moother,

It’s been a few days. I had started to check in a few times but never got around to it. This past week has been wild. I was getting over a fever and some kind of bug, went to Boston for a writer’s conference, and am finally home. 

Today, I miss you so much. I wished I could have called you when I got back so I could tell about my trip. I sat in on some great discussions about writing and reading. I even had my hand at some networking. I didn’t feel like such a loser since some of my work is finally published at a relatively decent publication. 

The night before I left for Boston I had dinner with Shannon and two of my other girlfriends in Charlotte. We were talking girl talk when we got on the subject of running. The girls told me that they created a team for a race called the Sarcoma Stomp. They named the team We Love Lucy. We are running in your honor on April 20! I was so touched and felt so loved. 

I thought being away would be a distraction from how much I miss you, but instead I was reminded of you all week. At the airport, on my way to Boston, these three girls about the same age difference as Michelle, Joanna, and me were traveling with their mother. They were all laughing and having a grand ole time at the airport. Every once in a while they would have a little argument, but still they reminded me of the three of us. Even the way they all laughed was similar. I think their inappropriate volume is what started my feeling nostalgia. It was painfully sweet. 

At the conference, I was reminded of how you probably would have absolutely hated most of the people there. Many of the people at the conference spoke of themselves, rarely engaging their peers in questions. Most of them also dressed so badly. It made me glad you taught not to always be talking about myself because that is obxious. I’m also glad you taught me to care about my appearance. When I was younger, I didn’t understand what the big deal was, but as I’ve gotten older being fashionable and not looking like a slob has become increasingly important. 

I was also reminded of you at the conference when I sat in at a reading by Amy Bloom and Richard Russo. Amy Bloom read from her forth coming novel and the excerpt was about childhood. The writing was beautiful, and I thought about how it would be nice to send you the book and then we could both read it together and discuss it as we always have with books we loved. Richard Russo read an excerpt from his memoir. In the excerpt he wrote about his mother’s death and his daughter’s wedding. It was interesting and made my chest swell with pain because I could tell that his pain, though not recent like mine, had not subsided. Even as read, he was reliving the pain and he had when wrote it and experienced it. This saddened me. I keep hoping the pain will go away, as if a cut that will eventually heal. There are days when I’ve scabbed over then suddenly it’s reopened and bleeding again. 

This week I will be mentally preparing myself for the weekend. I know I should be excited to go home and see Daddy, Joanna, and Michelle but it is going to be so painful to go home and know you’re not going to be there. It’s not like you’ll come in eventually because you’re working or running errands. You won’t be back at all, and I would seriously kill to just sit down and have some coffee with you. 

I’ve been trying to process why you’ve left and what lesson God has in store for me. I can’t quite understand why you couldn’t be around for longer so you could meet your grandchildren and help me be a mother.  I can’t understand why I’ve been deprived of shopping and coffee with you. I don’t get it, and it infuriates me. 

Well, now that I’m sufficiently upset I will sign off. 

I love you,


March 5, 2013

5 Mar

Hello Moother,

These past few days I’ve been pretty sick. I had a fever on-and-off all weekend, and now I have a really gross cough. When I was shopping with my friend, she said she’d thought that a fever was a symptom of pregnancy. We looked it up and the Internet indicated that it could be. Although, oftentimes the Internet will assume that if you’re experiencing anything out of the norm, you’re pregnant. I didn’t just have a mild fever either. I had a temperature of 101.5. I was probably half a degree away from being hospitalized.

Of course, after she left, I began to do more research. Sure enough, pregnant women who contracted fevers while pregnant were twice as likely to have kids with autism or birth defects. I started to freak. What if I was pregnant and now needed to go see a doctor? I took a test, and of course, I wasn’t pregnant. What I failed to realize after the test was that I’d taken the test too soon. I should have waited a few days because of my cycle. Regardless, I’m not experiencing any of the other symptoms of pregnancy.

Ma, I cannot tell you how badly I am ready for a baby. Facebook has become a place a torture. Every time I get on there someone has either announced their pregnancy or posted a picture of their baby.

Before I wanted a baby, it was fun to peruse the pictures of babies, but now it’s dreadful. I’m freaking out because everyone around me kept saying I’d get pregnant quickly despite my worries about my endometriosis, tipped uterus, and not-so-ideal weight. 

I’m well aware that’s it’s only been since Christmas that Justin and I have been trying. I mean we are being minimally scientific about it. It’s a little insane how hardcore people  can get with the ovulation sticks, specialists, and diets. As badly as I want to be a mother, I don’t know if going about it in a scientific way is healthy for my marriage. Seems like it would take the fun out of it. 

The thing is I’m worried that if I don’t get scientific, the window to have babies will close. I do think that maybe I should stay away from Facebook despite my love for social media. Facebook serves as a daily reminder that I’m failing, Failing in my ability to get pregnant, failing in my weight loss goals, failing in my career, failing in my ability to look good in photo. Honestly, Facebook should either be called failbook, or babybook. 

I think too, I know how badly you wanted to be a Nonna and in that I failed you. I’m not going to lie, when I think of this it depresses the hell out of me. I don’t know if we would have started sooner, would you have been around, but I did fail you. I think a baby would bring some much needed happiness to the family. I also know Daddy is ready to be a grandpa. I hope that soon I’m showing you pictures of a sonogram and asking for advise on baby names. 

On a different note, the other day I asked you to visit in my dreams and you did. You looked like an angel. For a brief moment, I was so happy, then I realized I was sleeping and my heart felt so much sorrow. Still, I think it makes going to sleep a little exciting. I hope to see you there soon. Maybe we can talk the next time. 

Love you,


March 3, 2013

4 Mar

Hello Moother,

It’s been a rough weekend. I’ve been trying to recover from a fever since Thursday night. I even left work early so I could rest and try and heal. Today has been my best day, but I still don’t feel great. 

Yesterday I went shopping with a girlfriend of mine. It was nice seeing her, but she’s not the best shopping pal. She just spends money like it’s her job, and it’s no fun shopping with someone who doesn’t have a budget. When I got to the mall, it made me think of you because I loved shopping with you so much. Really, this whole weekend was small reminders of you.

When I woke up Saturday morning, I sniffed your old perfume, and it made me think of going to the bridal shop with you on Saturdays to work. I loved how your bathroom always smelled of your perfume. I took the bottle of perfume from your bathroom when I went to back to head back home to pick up Justin for the funeral. It was this impulse I couldn’t control. I felt bad that I took it without saying anything to anyone. I admitted it to Michelle as we drove. It’s in my dresser and when I miss you a lot (which is often), I smell it. It makes it seem like you’re alive for one brief second. Then the sadness hits me like a ton of rocks. It’s nearly suffocating. 

When I got home from shopping with my friend, I wished you could have been with me so we could put some cute outfits together and touch all the fabrics we thought were beautiful. It was always so wonderful shopping with you because you didn’t make the shopping all about you. My friend did that. I had gift cards for three different stores, and we didn’t go into one of them. It was probably for the best though. We went into Nordstrom and my friend told me about a pair of 500 dollar sunglass she bought, but then returned. I was glad she was blessed to be able to spend money like that, but I couldn’t understand it. She then ended up buying a 200 dollar pair. I would love to be able to have that kind of lifestyle, but I don’t. I know she didn’t intend to make it feel like she was flaunting her money, but she knows I’m not wealthy like that so it felt like showing off. I learned my lesson.

When I got home, my fever was getting worse so I made lentil soup. It was no where as wonderful as yours. It tasted good, but it wasn’t yours. When Justin called me, I was crying and then he made me laugh, because I was upset that my lentil soup didn’t taste like yours. I now know exactly how you felt when you tried to make polenta like Nonna Maria. 

I’m not ready for this week because I’m still not 100 percent well. I am excited to go to Boston this week, because it’s always fun and invigorating to be around book nerds and writers like me, but it’s exhausting being away from home. The following week I’ll be back in Florida for your memorial mass. March is a busy month. 

I hope things are settling down in Heaven because I really want you to have time to visit me in dreams. 

I love you,