Mary DePinto

Phone calls at 6:22am are never good. And the one I got this morning from my mother was no different. My grandmother passed away, at the age of 94. I got to have dinner with her 2 weeks ago, at my favorite Italian restaurant. She had her usual, chicken fingers and 5 sugar packets with a splash of coffee. She pushed her 4'7" frame around in a walker with the tennis balls on the legs. I made her a wire wrapped bracelet for Christmas, but I gave it to her before we went out to eat. I wanted her to enjoy it before Christmas. I'm so glad I did.


My grandmother was the oldest girl in her Italian family, and when her mother died when she was 9 or 10, it became her duty to raise the rest of the children in the family and take care of the house. None of the other girls in the family can get married until the oldest daughter gets married...so she got married a bit sooner than she probably wanted. After taking care of her brothers and sisters, she had 3 children of her own which she raised. And when they married and kids, she often babysat her grandchilren, my cousins. She saw each of her own 3 children get married, each of her 6 grandchildren get married, and got to hold all 6 of her great grandchildren. She lived for births, showers, christenings, weddings, and family Christmas parties. She lived for family.


Being as old as she was, she outlived a few members of her own family, including her husband, Frank; her eldest and only son Frank Jr; her son-in-law/my father George Kanaan; and several of her brothers and sisters.


I have so many good memories of my Grandmother:

Making home-made pasta with her. She would get upset because I turned the crank to fast.

When I ate the raw pasta dough (raw egg in it), she'd remind me that I was going to get "a belly-ache."

The "belly-ache."

Her plastic fruit on the kitchen table.

Her cavatelli and home-made sauce.

Playing in the cellar of her home (Italians don't have "basements.")

Her scrambled eggs - so fluffy and yellow.

Eating cereal out of the Fleishman margarine containers.

Eating my favorite cookies she made: the ones with clear glaze and colored ball sprinkles.

Peaches, the parakeet.

Peaches, the other parakeet.

The figurines on her end tables.

The bubble lights in the windows at Christmas.

Me telling my non-Catholic husband that my Grandma was going to ask if he was Catholic, and that he should ay "Yes."

When My Grandma did ask my husband if he was Catholic, he answered..."Traci told me to tell you "Yes."

Trying to explain to my grandmother that my husband was an "environmental consultant to the development industry." She didn't quite grasp it, so we left it at..."He works outside."

Her using a pipe fixture to clear the fluid out of her lungs. She reminded me of the caterpillar smoking the hookah in Alice in Wonderland.

Her hitting me, when I teased her about "smokin' the hookah." I had no idea she knew what I was talking about.

Me being surprised that she had a sense of humor. She laughed at some of my off-the-cuff quips.

Me being asked to come to Cleveland for Christmas - because it might be Grandma's last Christmas. This happened for at least 20 straight Christmases.

Giving my grandmother my bouquet at my wedding, because she had been married the longest.

Grandma...you will be missed. Rest in peace. At 94...you earned it.


The picture is of my cousin Stephanie, my Aunt Rose, my Grandmother, my mother, and myself on Mother's Day 2008.