Sayōnara

In December, Nonna told me that there’s no use in trying to get more time with those we have lost. We can’t go back and create more memories, or value their company more. Yes, we can remember them and do justice to our memory of them. They say that you only know what you have when you lose it. In this case, I don’t agree. My grandparents have always meant a lot to me, and I feel lost without them. I’ve learned so much from them: dedication and perseverance from Nonno; unconditional love and generosity from Nonna.

Nonno, with his growing love of aviation, started and grew his hobby shop. Now, the basement of their house is full of model airplanes. He taught himself carpentry, making beautiful pieces for the whole family. The attention to detail, the curiosity and the perseverance that I learned from him are something that I aspire to continue in my lifetime.

For as long as I can remember, Nonna’s greatest concerns seemed to revolve around her family eating enough when we visited. She wanted to make sure we had more than our fair share of pancakes, roasted chicken and garlic, minestra, or with me, whipped cream and pie. She would give us bubble gum when we were packing up the leftovers, and then before leaving, she would offer us Swiss chocolate from the glass jar in the kitchen. When Nonno was in the hospital, she would send little containers of food for him. Then, when she was in the hospital, she continued this habit, sending my dad out for cookies for us, and trying to share her lunch with me.

Cooking wasn't the only thing I had in common with Nonna. When I was younger, there was also sewing and knitting. As I became older, I started crocheting. Nonna passed onto me stories of her mother crocheting at night by the fire, with a nearly invisible crochet hook. Nonna gave it to me, as an heirloom. I’m scared to use it in fear of breaking it. Nonna also told me about her mom’s copper pot collection, covering a whole wall of the kitchen, in a variety of shapes and sizes. Most were lost, but Nonna gave me one of the few she had.

All of these half-formed memories of my great-grandmother, all of my memories of my grandparents, these are things that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. When I look at new crocheting patterns, when I make pie, when I see airplanes, I’ll remember my grandparents. I feel like I’ve lost a part of myself now, with all my grandparents gone. I’ll never stop thinking about my family, my background, and my heritage. They meant so much to me, and I want to do them justice. Ti amo, Nonna.