SO...The Italian Honeymoon. I have honestly been putting this off, because I have not been able to figure out how to paint a picture of the way Italy made me feel. I try and I try to explain, and as the days go by, I grasp on to every last moment before admitting it is over. As my writer's block continues to kick in, I finally decided that I am going to do something that makes me a bit vulnerable. I am going to share with you the journal entry I wrote before our trip. As I read through it, the writing does not flow AT ALL, and I am completely fine with that. I am choosing to share this journal entry with you because Italy to me is more than just a place. It is home. It is Love. It is who I feel I am in my core. Italy is a place I have dreamed of my entire life, and that dream finally came true with the man I have dreamed of my entire life. So here is a little bit if me:
July 22, 2011 (on the airplane)
And so we begin on our Journey to Italy...our Honeymoon. Although most Honeymoons occur immediately following the wedding, I enjoy the fact that ours is four months after. We have had the chance to be married for a few months, and now we can celebrate with a good foundation...This is the trip I have waited my entire life to travel. Ever since I was a young child, I have dreamed of someday going to the "Land of the Boot." There was a map of this place in my Grandparents' kitchen. The map was on a plate that hung on the wall. It was black with a gold trim, if I can remember correctly. Or wait, perhaps that plate had gold flowers on it, and there was a map next to it. Anyway, I see it in the back of my mind. One of those distant memories that you try so hard to hold on to. Why do they have to slip away? Well, regardless of whether or not the map was on the plate, I remember my Grandma telling me all about this boot shaped country where my maternal ancestors lived, where my Grandpa lived.
Grandpa did not speak of his previous life, however I was always told that Italy was the greatest country in the world. The kitchen smelled of an aroma that I could never duplicate. All of the letters of every language in the entire world would not be able to explain the scent. It was in fact not merely a scent alone, but rather a "being" that wrapped it's ever loving arms around my entire body and made everything okay with the world.
Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, and Gentleness. Father. Son. Holy. Spirit. Amen. Grandma taught me the sign of the cross. I cherish her. She just had a way about her that made you know you were loved. Grandma was everything that encompassed the fruits of the spirit, and she was the aroma in the kitchen.
"Quanto sei bella, Quanto sei bella..." The song Great-Grandma (Grandma's mother) used to sing to me as I sat on her lap. Great-Grandma lived above Grandma and Grandpa in the other part of the duplex in the seemingly quiet town of Midland Park, New Jersey. Anyone from Midland Park will tell you that it was anything BUT quiet, seeing as the town consisted of 6,500 people, 6,499 of which who were white, and 8,000 of which who considered gossip as a hobby (some count for 2 or 3). Great-Grandma wore black lace-up boots that rose just below her calves, she sported an apron daily, always had a rosary nearby, and used to make me recite the “Hail Mary” while balancing a book on my head. I vividly remember her black boots as she would walk backward down the stairs; always backward. She sat in the same spot on the plastic covered couch in my Grandparents' living room, and although she spoke very little English, I always understood her. Side note: Grandma always kept a plastic cover on her couch in order to preserve the couch for when she had "company." Not sure who she was waiting for, but needless to say, the plastic never came off, but when we sat on the couch, our skin always did. Okay, back to Great-Grandma. Great-Grandma used to cook in her kitchen all while sitting at the kitchen table. This was done by leaning back on her chair to reach the oven and stove, while preparing the food at the table. As the story goes, one day, as she was leaning back to cook her food, her chair slipped out from under her, and she hit her head on the stove. She was found on the floor with a bloody head...alive of course. And so it has been said time and time again when my brother Benjamin and I leaned back in our chairs, "Remember the story of Great Grandma." To this day, I tell that story to my students, and one day I will tell my own children. This story is right up there with Santa Clause; a completely fabricated story, knowingly passed down from generation to generation.
Great Grandma died many years later from old age, just a short time before her daughter (my sweet Grandma) was taken from us at too young of an age, after losing her battle with cancer. When Grandma left, this world became a different place...a colder place. For a while, I could still smell her in the kitchen. Grandpa kept the clock set to the time she went away...time no longer existed to him.
As I sit here in an airplane high above the clouds, I feel closer to Grandma. Year after year, the house grew lonely. I missed her. We all missed her. My mom yearned for her her mother, and she always will. I was too young to comfort mom. I didn't know how. Oh how I wish I was a better daughter. The world without Grandma continued to grow colder. We needed warmth. We would move to Arizona.
My mom and dad were still married then. We were driving along the streets of our small town in New York, with the remains of the long winter plowed to the side of the roads. Our parents in the front seats, us in the back. "We are either moving to North Carolina or Arizona," they said. Not sure how they came up with two distinctively different places, but Grandma always wanted to live in a warm place. Perhaps we would feel closer to her there. Arizona brought us much happiness. Although Mom and Dad divorced, I found strength in the Lord, and had all of the love I ever wanted from both of my parents. I had a good life (still do). Every summer we would travel back to the east coast. My Grandparents' kitchen was never the same. My distant memories remained, and as I sat at the kitchen table, I could smell my Grandma's warmth. I could hear the dozens of people who always seemed to fit in there during the holidays. "Mongia Mongia, wipe your Faccia.”
As I look at today’s date, I realize something. 17 is the number of years ago to this very day, that we moved to Arizona. 15 is the number of years ago to this very day that I asked Jesus to be a part of my life. 88 is the age Grandpa will be tomorrow. Life is a full circle, and nothing is coincidence; that’s for damn sure.
Love, ash
OK, so that was part of my first journal entry from our Italian journey. There are about 500 more pages with which I will choose not to bore you, however, I will add this: Grandpa lives in Arizona now, and resides in an independent living facility. He was so happy on our wedding day in March, and he danced the night away. Since the wedding, he has suffered two strokes, and is holding onto life as tight as the memories I hold of my childhood.
After our Honeymoon, my incredible Husband, Adam, made a photo book of our travels, and we will show Grandpa when we visit him in Arizona next month. Part of me is anxious to see Grandpa, because I do not want to believe he is suffering. I have convinced myself that he is okay, and as long as I am far away, I will not have to face the truth. My psychologist friend, Stefanie Platt, would call this
denial. I call it
keeping my sanity. Whatever the case may be, I am having a hard time. There, I said it. By the grace of God, we were able to visit the magical country where my heritage began, and I can reminisce with my sweet grandfather about “The Land of The Boot.”
So how was our trip? I will leave you with this: Visiting the country of Italy made me feel as close to heaven as I have ever known. We traveled to Venice, Murano, Pisa, Tuscany, Florence, Assisi, and Rome. As our plane landed in our first stop of Venice, I felt the presence of all who have come an gone before me; my past, present, and future. I smelled Grandma’s kitchen, I heard Great Grandma’s singing in the cool breeze, and I felt Grandpa’s love. Cheesy? Yes. True? Completely. I have never had such a strong peace come over me in my entire life.
Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, and Gentleness. Father. Son. Holy. Spirit. Amen.
