I remember your soft smile and your gentle nature. The way you threw your hands up in defeat, never one to argue.
I remember the background noise of the television as you sat watching, legs tucked under as you watched, remote control in hand.
I remember hours sitting at the kitchen table playing Trouble, Monopoly, Aggravation, and Rummy. “Another one?” You’d ask as one game finished, always ready for another.
I remember the way you ate your tomato salad, fork in one hand and a slice of Italian bread in the other.
I remember sleepovers, wedged in the middle of your full sized bed, listening to you breathe…and snore.
I remember your handkerchief, always tucked in your back pocket, your eyeglass holder and pens in your shirt pocket, along with a lotto ticket or two.
I remember the way my name sounded rolling off your tongue- three syllables magically just one with your Italian accent.
I remember the bits of stories you’d share from your past. Childhood, Italy, army life, family.
I remember your silhouette as you stood in the garden, one arm resting on your shovel, catching your breath from the heat and hard work.
Sometimes I still expect to see your plaid shirt as I round the corner into your backyard, sitting on the patio, enjoying the quiet.
Mostly, I remember the feeling of unconditional love.
October 29,1919 is the day my grandfather, Santo, was born. Today would have been his 100th birthday. Happy birthday, Pop! ❤️