Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Even when Aunt Rose was suffering, her thoughts never dwelled on herself. She would always be more interested in those around her and willing to share with them in the joys of life. She was one of those very rare gems, the kind that come along once in a lifetime. One of my earliest memories of Aunt Rose and Uncle Paul was in their kitchen of their duplex. It was Christmas, and the adults were all in the living and dining rooms. I was in the little kitchen sitting at the table alone with Aunt Rose and Uncle Paul, watching them artfully stuff fresh cannolis for their guests. My mind's eye can still see them trimming the ends of their homemade cannolis with pistachios. Uncle Paul gave me part of one to try. I had never tasted anything so sublime. To this day, I have been in search of the perfect cannoli, but it could only be found in Aunt Roses's and Uncle Paul's kitchen. Those Cannolis will always be the perfect metaphor for my Aunt Rose and Uncle Paul - for a life well-lived and well loved. A perfect life can only be found in the hearts and memories of those we love. Fly home Aunt Rose! - Until we see one another again. All my love, your Goddaughter, Joanie
