A trip home, A realization attained

When you ask my parents how they met, there always proves to be some discrepancy between one another’s version of the story. My father states that they met at my mother’s birthday party, after a mutual co-worker invited him to attend. My mother tells the story slightly differently, adamantly asserting that my father came not for her but the invitee.  However, I know my Dad  intended to see my mother, as yes, she was beautiful, thoughtful and kind, but she also shared the same name as my father’s mother; Alice, a significant detail in the telling of such an important family story. As I reflect on the lives of both my mother and grandmother, I acknowledge that they share much more in common than their first and last names. Their unwavering commitment to their families, especially their husbands and children prove to be a integral characteristic linking these two incredibly loved and admired women.

 My grandmother grew up in the small town of Welcome, Minnesota, in a household headed by her strong-willed, penny-saver mother. My grandmother still speaks fondly of the relationship she shared with her mother, and since it was just the two of them, their connection was particularly strong. As a young woman my grandmother suffered from horrible allergies, thus influencing a decision to move to Colorado where the climate and weather was more favorable to her condition. On New Year’s Eve, 1944, my grandmother attended a local dance, where my grandfather, a dental technician enrolled with the Army was in attendance. She said that as soon as their eyes met, it was love. Following her response, I challenged my grandmother and asked her if such an occurrence really exists. She looked over to her right, where my grandpa, now a ninety-one year-old man was engaged in an afternoon nap, complete with a half-opened jaw and slouching posture, and then returned her glance to me and issued an affirmative yes.

Shortly after that dance, my grandmother and grandfather married, and moved to the suburbs of Chicago, where they raised three children, Anthony, Jr., Rocco and my father, Mario. My grandmother did not have it particularly easy, as she was caring for three small children and a managing a job, but eventually she received support from her mother who decided to move from Minnesota to Chicago to help in the raising of my father and my two uncles. I have come to recognize that the greatest of mothers tend to make some of the greatest sacrifices on behalf of their children. This lesson of sacrifice, taught to my grandmother by her own mother was something she embodied, evident by my grandmother’s ability to always place her children and their needs before herself. One of my favorite stories of my grandmother is one that details her involvement in the founding of a school and workshop for children with special needs. This was no small feat, especially in the 1950′s when often children with disabilities were ostracized and placed in orphanages and other state institutions. Yet, my grandmother and grandfather were determined to alter this reality, as their son Rocco was born with mental retardation and due to his related disabilities, he was too often denied opportunities of educational development. My grandparents remained committed to providing their son with a future contrary to the one many others laid before him and together with adults in their community they were able to establish a school and workshop for individuals with special needs. This workshop still functions today and now serves a new group of children and their families. For my grandmother, the decision to simply accept the status quo was never an option as she knew that her son was just as deserving of educational and job training advancement as the next child. My grandmother’s resolve and willingness to sacrifice for her family’s well-being continues to bring forth great pride and serves as an important reminder of what is capable when our cause is just, well-intentioned and pursued with an unwavering commitment. Throughout my uncle’s life, my grandmother has sacrificed a great deal, but her actions serve as reminder of the selflessness embodied and possessed by the greatest of mothers.

 A little over a year ago, I received my undergraduate diploma. As for all graduates, it was a proud day. When the excitement of all the parties and celebrations had subsided, it was just my mother and I, as she agreed to help pack my belongings and make the drive back to Chicago with me the following day. That evening, I asked my mother to go on one last walk with me through campus. On this walk, I began to express the anxiousness that I was feeling about my future. I acknowledged that my undergraduate experience was truly transformative, and through it, I developed not only a desire for continued study and research, but also a longing to pursue a career, a professional and academic life, that may physically lead me away from her and the family whom I love. I remember through our tears, this sense of deep understanding of one another and the emotions and sentiments we were both experiencing.

From my mother’s perspective, I am her only daughter, the one for whom she waited with such patience after having given birth to two boys – two wonderful boys- but not the daughter for who she has always wished.  And in that moment, I was the daughter whom she sent away to college only to have her return a significantly different and changed person. From my perspective, that was just it. I had seen and experienced a great deal during my undergraduate years and for this reason, I still am so anxious to fully utilize my education and to act on my passions. My desire to see and experience much of the world has never been hindered by my mother, as I truly know that my happiness is what she desires, no matter where this is attained, yet few mothers want to learn of their daughter’s desire to live in a place where they are not near. As my mother wishes happiness upon me, so I wish the same for her. Yet, what if her happiness is largely dependent on my actions and that of my two brothers as well, the children whom she loves so greatly and has sacrificed so much? I know my mother struggles with the reality, that for now, two of her children are not a car ride away or available to meet for a last minute lunch date. Yet, she sacrifices, forgoing her personal happiness in the hopes that her children are finding their own sense of fulfillment on the paths in which we have chosen; paths on which my mother has so selflessly allowed us to navigate. As we do so, I hope my mother and my father know that we carry them with us, through the values and beliefs in which they have instilled. Through my actions, I strive to be a proud reflection of the family whom I admire so greatly and the two women, the Alices, whom in their lifetimes have loved extensively and sacrificed immensely.

In acknowledging the greatness of these women, so I struggle to be.

Advertisement