mama nonnie (m)

My brother Phil, the self-appointed family geneologist, calls with BIG NEWS.  "I found the citizenship papers for Dad's parents."

I didn't want to sound unappreciative, but we knew they became US Citizens sometime in the 1950's.  What's the big deal?

"Mama Nonnie was 5'2" and weighed 280 pounds when she was 54 years old."

My father's mother was massive in size.  She died when I was 13 years old.  She was an alien creature to me as she spoke no English whatsoever.  I remember seeing her at Mass once.  I was with my class (we sat by grade) and she was with her ladies' church group and wore a black dress, big black hat, those black old-lady shoes (the chunky ones with the ties), and had some purple ribbon around her neck with a medal on it.  She nodded when she saw me staring at her and then went back to praying from her missal.

That is the only memory I have of her outside her home.

For years, she was confined to a chair by the window where she could view the street below.  The church was directly across the street.  When you visited her, you had to announce yourself like this:  "Hello, Mama Nonnie, it's me, M....J's daughter" so she would know your name and how you were related to her.  It was the most gratifying thing in the world to get a smile from her.  I could tell by her eyes that she was a kind person.

Sometime after that, she took to her bed.  She remained in bed for 5 years, never getting up once.  The aunties took care of her, gently bathing her, feeding her, and turning her from side to side so she didn't get bed sores.  I asked my aunts why she was in bed all the time and they answered, "You ask too many questions."  I tried to point out that that was just one question, but still got no answers.

While she was generally sharp as a tack, there were moments when she got a little confused.

Once, when it was my turn to feed her, she asked me something in Italian.  I had no clue as to what she was asking.  I bluffed.  "Yes, Nonnie, eat," I said.  She got more agitated.  I shoved the spoonful of food towards her mouth and she spat it out all over me.  I ran downstairs to my aunts and told them what happened.  Turns out, she was asking if I was trying to poison her and I said, "Yes, eat."  You'd spit, too.

She had a premonition that her death was coming and would summon her many children to sit by her bed and watch her go.  I remember my father getting a call during our dinner once.  He left immediately but came home a few hours later.  "She's fine," he said.

When she did pass from this life some months later, she went alone in the early hours of the morning. 

I don't think about her all that often and, when I do, I think of her heaviness.  I would guess that's the first thing any of my cousins think about as well.  Her size.

But there was so much more to her.  She immigrated to this country as a young girl, had 17 pregnancies which resulted in 11 live births, 9 of which survived to adulthood.  She lost a daughter to a burst appendix 3 weeks before she was to have been married and lost her charismatic son to a cerebral hemorrhage when he was in his 20's...the result of a work-related injury.  She sent 5 sons off to war--4 were decorated in World War II and one was honored for his work in the Korean War.  All of them returned safely.  She started a business with my grandfather and took in boarders to help pay the mortgage on the house.  She was active in her church group and generous to those less fortunate.  She lost her eldest child when he was 56 years old.  I remember her crying in her bed, the church bells ringing outside her window during his funeral.  It broke my heart.

They say she had a great sense of humor and was a practical joker.  I remember one Halloween when I went to her chair to show her my costume and she turned and...horrors...her face was all contorted.  She had put a nylon stocking over her face and it smushed her features.  I had nightmares for weeks afterwards.

I think it's a shame that we are defined so much by our appearance.   I wish I had been able to see past all of this when I was a kid.  I could have learned so much from her.

One thing I did learn, however, is to not let this happen to me.