Remembering Rosie

On Tuesday, 17 March 2015, we lost my wonderful Aunt and Godmother, Rosanna Garofalo.  She was one of the most wonderful people I've ever met - not only because she was my Aunt, but because she was a downright wonderful person.  She suffered for a long time with various forms of cancer thanks to Lynch Syndrome, but throughout the whole ordeal she kept her head held high and worked and played hard.

I think we are all still in shock as she was just so young and taken from us far too soon. I'm still struggling to accept it.  Although I was unable to attend the funeral, I wrote the Eulogy which my sister, Erin, read.

Remembering Rosie

When I was a little girl, I remember staying with Rosie at Grandma and Grandpa’s house the night before Christmas Eve.  We snuck downstairs late that night and ate Hershey kisses off of the cookie trays.  The next morning my Grandmother was so confused as she was sure she had set out the Hershey kisses.  We giggled because it was our secret.  That was the kind of person Aunt Rosie was.  She laughed.  She always aimed to be a good person.  She loved her family unconditionally and put her heart and soul into building relationships with others. 

We are here today to remember her.  This is the third time in eighteen months our family has come to church to remember and celebrate one of our dearly departed.  Those of us in the family knew Rosie as an aunt a sister a niece and a cousin.  She was taken from us far too soon, but she wouldn’t want us to mourn her; she would want us to remember her vibrant and happy life.  It was only in the last several months when she started to feel unwell, that we learnt how many lives she made better just by being Rosie.

She moved to Boston almost 30 years ago and then on to Chicago. We never really knew how smart of a businesswoman she was, how well she understood her industry or how hard she worked.  Regardless of how she felt, she always asked others how they were doing.  In her job, she worked tirelessly to make sure her client’s needs were met.  Her colleagues told us that she was a force to be reckoned with and when she put her mind and strong work ethic to something it would always get accomplished.

Rosie always came home for Christmas and other holidays and quite often stayed at our house.  I think our most fond memories of her always seem to revolve around Christmas.  While preparing the Italian Christmas Eve feast, Rosie would excuse herself for a few hours to get her nails done and would come back when all of the work was finished.  The only thing left to make was the cocktail sauce – and it became her official job – year after year.  She would always sit with us on Christmas morning and enjoy every laugh and smile as each present was opened.

She enjoyed keeping up with current events and could often be found sitting at our kitchen table, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. She really enjoyed reading the paper but compared to the Boston Globe and the Chicago Tribune, she claimed nothing ever happened in Painesville.  Of course, that didn’t stop her from reading it.

She loved kids - especially babies - and they loved her.  She was convinced that Baby James’ first words should and would be “Rosie”.  That led her to look at him or hold him and say “Rosie Rosie Rosie” over and over again, day in and day out, even last week.  We are still waiting on James to catch on.

Rosie loved the beautiful things about life.  She always had her nails done in exotic red and we would often laugh at her refusal to help with washing or cleaning as her nails were drying.  As a tribute to her spirit, many of the ladies here today have had their nails done so the gentlemen here better be prepared to pitch in.  One of her dreams was to see Andrea Bocelli in concert, and this “bucket list” item came true last December when my sister Erin went with her.  Rosie sang and cried along with the beautiful music.

She found beauty in many things. For many years, every Saturday was spent visiting garage sales, always hunting for treasures and then trying to get these items into her brothers’ or sister’s house.  She collected turtles of every shape and size and loved flowers in hanging baskets.  Our family will continue to honour her memory every spring and summer when we place flowers at the entrance to our homes.

It’s very fitting, as the name “Rose” means beautiful flower.  But we, Rosanna's family and friends know that she was more than just a beautiful person.  A rose is, after all, more than a flower which brightens up a room.  It is a beautiful and powerful symbol.  It stands for love and forgiveness. It represents romance and strength. The rose is powerful because it still grows, year after year, bright, beautiful and resilient.

That’s what our Rosie was like - powerful and strong.  Even in the face of cancer, she fought and endured.  She still kept her head held high and had faith.  Her faith and her church kept her strong throughout so much heartache and suffering.  The recent passing of both Emma and Carmelo has left us all feeling a sense of sadness and emptiness.  But I think for Rosie, she felt their loss deeper, probably because she too was suffering.

Last Monday we learned that my family here in England will be moving back home to America, we think that she was waiting for that news.  Being home with family is so important.  No matter how long you are away, when you are with family, you are home.  There’s a reason my daughter is named Emma Rose.  I hope and pray that she will grow up to be as kind and thoughtful and as powerful and strong as the two women she is named after.

I recently heard a story which leaves me confident that even in our darkest hours, when faced with trials and struggles, those who we love who have gone before us are with us, watching and protecting us.

Rosie believed that cardinals are messengers and they are the spirit of those who have passed coming to tell us something.  Last December, Rosie was outside her house trying to remove a hose from the spigot and was struggling to disconnect it.  She either wasn’t strong enough or not using the right tool, but for whatever reason, she couldn’t do it. She became frustrated and upset until she turned around and saw two cardinals - a male and a female - watching her.  She tried one last time to remove the hose - and it came undone.  It wasn’t chance or coincidence.  Her faith told her that her parents were there, watching and protecting her.

I have no doubt that she is now watching over all of us. That is the kind of person she was.  We never knew how many people her life touched until she returned to us a few weeks ago.  Friends from so many times and places in her life came together to let her know that she mattered so much to them and they truly loved her.  We all had the chance to let her know how important she was and she deserved to know.  We will always see signs that will remind us of her.  Whether it is a sign for a garage sale, a newspaper and a cup of coffee, a genuine smile, a turtle, or a simple rose, we will always remember our Rosie.

I found writing this incredibly difficult.  I know we are supposed to remember the good things about Rosie and celebrate her life, but I can't help but feel an incredible sense of sadness at her loss.  A family friend sent us this quote and it has become the informal theme for our remembrance of Rosie:

"When you die, it doesn't mean that you lose to cancer.

You beat cancer by how you live, why you live,

and in the manner in which you live."

How very true those words are for my beautiful, kind hearted Aunt.  Cancer has an awful lot to answer for, and I pray every day that a cure is soon found and my daughter never has to know the pain of losing someone she loves to this horrible disease.

Hold your loved ones a little bit longer tonight. You never know how much time you have left together.

Xx

Dear baby,

Dear Baby,

Friday was a really sad day. You wouldn't have known it because it seemed like every other day. 

And then we sent those balloons up to the sky. Do you know why we did that?  

A year ago we lost my Grandma - your Great Grandma. It's sad because she never got to see you - she never even got to know you were on your way. 

She had cancer but in the end it wasn't the cancer that won. She won. She was just tired of fighting and ready to rest. She had a kick ass life, and she was ready to join her little boy (my Uncle Jim and your second cousin James' granddad) in heaven. 

The other day you were looking at me and I was crying.  I saw this advert and it made me wonder if she would still be here had a cure been found and cancer had been made to pay. I hope to God that in your lifetime we finally win the war rather than these small victories we currently fight for. 

Watch the Clip here

It makes me remember all of the wonderful people we have lost too soon. Grandma, your Great Auntie Jill,  Great Uncle Jim and Great Uncle Bill.  There are so many more, but they are the family I remember and miss.  You never got to meet Auntie Jill - but she so badly wanted to meet you. 

I'm sad because I wish Grandma could see me as a mom. I'm not sure she  would have ever imagined this for me. I'd like her to see it - she'd laugh at my panic and anxiety - but she'd admit that you're pretty darn fantastic. 

The thing I always loved about her was her blatant honesty. She told the truth and not many people tell the truth so readily nowadays. 

She was strong and stubborn and told it like it was. She was the first to give you her opinion and it was the only right opinion. She knew everyone and everything (how did she know everything?!) She loved her family unconditionally. She left such an imprint upon all of us. 

I wish you could have known her. Her name was Emma too - just like you. I know you're only little, but I already see her fierce personality in you.  Coincidence?  Probably not.

I miss her. 

I hope she gets our balloons. 

Love,

Me 

Xx

Remembering Emma

I've been MIA for the past couple of weeks because work has been so overwhelming.  I've found it difficult to keep on top of the demands - mostly demands created by myself as I want to be Outstanding.

My perspective has changed.

On Thursday I received the news that my grandmother - Emma Garofalo - passed away.  She had just underwent surgery to remove cancer in her kidney and stomach and seemed to pull through.  She was making a strong recovery when she took a turn for the worst.  

Receiving that email and making the panicked phone call to my mum was the worst feeling in the world.  My grandma was a fighter - she was an amazing woman and I viewed her as immortal as she faced death so many times and came out on top. She was 84 and lived a full and beautiful life.

I bought my plane ticket and am now sitting at the kitchen table - the heart of my childhood home - writing the eulogy I will deliver at her funeral on Monday.  When my mother asked me to speak I was honoured yet terrified.  I know I'll be able to do her justice.

On the evening I found out about my grandmother, I was meant to bake doughnuts for a charity event we were holding at school on Friday - Macmillan coffee morning.   What better way to honour my grandmother than by baking - one of her claims to fame - for a cancer charity.  I managed a dozen and left a note on the top - just thinking someone buying the doughnuts may see it.

I was visited by the head boy and one of the other senior prefects who organised the event.  Both hugged me and expressed their sympathy for my grandmother's passing.   They asked if they could dedicate the event to her and made a large sign for the hall.  I was so touched by the kindness and thought our students possess.  They raised the equivalent of $4,000.

So now I'm left with my thoughts.  My heart is heavy, but it's also softened as I remember that I work in a school full of beautiful and caring people.  Check out their video here.

I've learnt that no matter how difficult times may be, as long as there is love in our lives, we will be just fine.  Nothing else really matters in the end.

 

 In loving Memory: Emma Garofalo

Sister, Mother, Grandmother, Friend and so much more

1929-2013

 xx

An open letter to cancer

Dear Cancer,

I am sick of hearing your name.   I have kept my mouth shut for a long time, watching on the sidelines as you made your way through family and friends, leaving behind a trail of anger, pain and sorrow.

Well I've had enough.  You have hurt too many people and torn apart too many lives.  I think it's high time you heard what I had to say.  I may be no one of importance, but I've seen all too well that one voice can make a difference.

I'm not scared of you.  We aren't scared of you.   

Your name used to bring fear and anxiety but not any more.  We know you.  We know your moves and we know your style.  We know how you attack and the paths that you take.  We can watch everything that you do. We are fighting back.

The terror that you think you bring is no longer weakening us.  You may believe that you bring fear and pain, but strength and faith are coupled with your name - both far greater and more powerful than the despair you wish upon your victims.  

You can continue to try to tear lives and families apart, but you won't and you can't. 

The amount of time, effort and energy that has gone into getting rid of you shows just how serious we are about destroying you. You can't last much longer. We have already learnt that you are no longer a death sentence.   Surely you know that the bad guy never wins.

All I wish for you is the same upset, anguish and suffering that you have inflicted upon those who have been labelled by your name.  I hope that you become a memory.  A mere memory which children, adults and most importantly - survivors - read about and smile, knowing that you have been defeated.

That defeat is nearing.   Your end is near.

Are you scared?  You should be.

Sincerely,
Jennifer Berry