Memories of my Nonna

For as many years as I could remember I have loved telling my Nonna Nina stories. There were so many great stories to tell, it’s never been hard to do -until her funeral. Before, when I told you my stories, people would say they’d like to me meet her. Now the stories leave you with a different feeling –of wishing you could have met her.


I told my stories to my coworkers, my friends and probably a few strangers on business trips. I loved how they responded on how blessed we were to have her. I loved it when my coworkers and friends would request more Nonna Nina stories as if I was just moving on to the next chapter of her book


I would normally start and talk about how I got to become so incredibly close to my Nonna. My parents had moved out of state while I was in college, my grandpa (Nonno) had already passed. That left Nonna and me. Two Nina’s - to talk, to go to dinner, to learn about the differences in perspectives from our age and an Italian versus American culture.


I taught my Nonna about the rapper, Snoop Doggy Dog. We had stopped for gas –which by the way she was in disbelief I actually pumped myself – when bored in my car she found a cassette tape. As I opened the door she looked up puzzled and asked “What is-ah Snoop-a Doggy Dog?” How would I explain to her what a Rapper was? I explained he was a musician to which she replied “That’s all-a American music is-a Doggy Dog a Doggy Dog”.


Nonna would often call my answering machine and speak to it as if I was there but just taking too long to answer her questions. There was nothing like coming home and hearing Nonna on my machine. “Nina? Oh Nina? It’sa your Nonna. You come to dinner tomorrow. Ok? Ok.” I would listen to them over and over because it tickled my heart so.


It was my Nonna who always wanted to know if her grandchildren had found that special person to spend our lives with. She’d always ask for an update. There was one afternoon that she told me she had the answer. I needed to pray to Saint Anthony to bring me a husband. I was touched. She handed me the prayer card and I thanked her and began to read it. It went something like this.


Oh Saint Anthony, I implore to you to (fill in request). Okay “find me a husband”. Next line… I realize this may require a miracle". (Insert screeching tires in my head....!)   A miracle? Am I really that desperate of a case Nonna? Gee thanks! I got a got a good chuckle out of that story and a great husband out of that prayer.


Nonna taught us about faith and the power of it. She had the strongest faith of anyone I have ever known. She had the largest determination in meeting her spiritual goals. She went on a trip with the church to Medjugorje to climb the mountain. She trained for months like an Olympian, walking over 400+ stairs every day and 4+ miles. Nothing would keep her from this moment. In fact on that trip she broke her toe but she still make it to the top – outlasting girls a third her age. After sharing this story in her Eulogy the priest asked to make a clarification about my story and let me know that in “climbing” this mountain we should understand he PULLED her up it and he was her brakes coming down…comical how her story left all that out.


Her last few years Nonna lived near me again and she got to share in my joy of my wedding and the birth of two of my three children. She got to see her daughter in the grandmother role – developing that special bond with my daughter as I had with Nonna and my mom.


Nonna told me in her last week how all her children “were good” and she loved them very much. Nonna leaves a hole in my heart that can never be filled. There is comfort in a prayer verse I heard from Father Lavelle during her Sacrament of Last Rites and it couldn’t be more fitting :

Well done my faithful servant. Enter the Kingdom of God.

and she did just that....