There hasn’t been a time in our lives when Aunt Lil was not there - and perhaps because of that – all of us, no matter how small the thought – believed that maybe, just maybe – this woman was immortal.
In August, I went to visit Aunt Lil when she was in rehab and as I left, I gave her kiss, looked her in the eye, and said, “Now, don’t give me an excuse to fly back here this year.” She, of course, didn’t listen to me and did things her way. In the end, didn’t we all know that she would get what she wanted?
“I’m spoiled,” she said once without a hint of humility. “I’ve always been spoiled.”
And who were we to argue?
Fifty years ago she brought two people together, and because of that simple take charge act, I stand here with so much gratitude – because without her, my brother and I would not exist as part of this amazing and wonderful family.
Holidays, birthdays, weddings, babies, graduations, anniversaries, new jobs, boyfriends, ex-boyrfiends, girlfriends, and ex-girlfriends – there’s not one of life’s events that she did not share with us. And no matter how old any of us got – there was always a card, and inside - $25 “to have coffee and a bagel on me.”
No doubt all of us remember the times at her house in Winthrop she shared with Uncle Tony. How much love was in that small two bedroom flat?
What crazy treasures existed up that spiral staircase to the attic, where once a red light shone in the window much to the wrath of my very old fashioned Italian grandfather? And how amazing was it to see her beloved Rinny Von Gregorie running through those rooms? Well, for me, I just remember being scared of this huge German Sheppard, but that’s another story.
Just like the flat at 194 Washington Ave, her home in Malden meant the world to her.
What feasts would greet us when she had us over for a meal. When all I wanted was her famous potatoes and eggs, there would be lox, bagels, and a buffet that would, no doubt, cause the chefs of the Ritz Carlton to go back to cooking school. When I moved to the west coast, her cookie culinary fame brought her legions of new fans. And though only a select few met “the woman who made those cookies,”- from just those sweets, they knew the kind of woman our aunt was. So if anyone ever tells you that you cannot bake love into a cookie, then they, like Aunt Lil always said, “can go shit in their hat.”
Her gigadellis filled the curio cabinets, the Hummels lined her mantel, pictures of family past and present and photos of new friends were everywhere you looked. Anyone who entered could tell that there was love in that house, that here were endless days and nights of good times. Here, she found safety and comfort. Watching her stories and game shows and reading her romance novels, she found there her sanctuary for so many years. It was the place she wanted above anything else to return to and, of course – she got her way. I will always remember 37 Bellvale as a place filled with love, overflowing with good times and laughter – all the ingredients that made Aunt Lil so special. But one thing that that was missing from those rooms, and she always knew it - was her collection of classic dolls.
“Oh, Jimmy, I had so many dolls,” she reminisced, “And I gave them all away.”
“You never gave away that ugly one over there,” I’d tease pointing to the scary dark haired, bug eyed doll in the pink dress.
“Don’t you make fun of her,” she’d scold, adamant that as a child, I poked out its eyes causing it to go to the doll hospital. A fact that I insist to this very day is false and that she lied. Because, after all, Aunt Lil would never lie, would she?
And no matter how old we got or how many times we thought we had the upper hand, how easy was it for her to scold us and make us feel as if were ten years old again? That’s a hell of a talent and like her closely guarded recipes; she never gave away its secret. She was the original diva, the reigning queen of the family and in her own “special” way – she reminded us of that time and time again.
I’m not sure what life will be like without her. Right now, it’s strangely empty, but just think of what life would have been if she had never been ours - if she had not been here to watch over us and see her family grow into a tree with so many branches that it’s getting harder and harder to keep them all rooted in one place. I have no doubt she knew that she was surrounded by love - and how special was it that some of us here even heard her say out loud - “I love you.”
Secrets or perhaps just not being comfortable in sharing were a part of her make up that everyone knew all too well. So imagine my surprise this past summer when she opened up for a brief moment about the answer for a successful marriage.
“My Tony was the best, and once you find the best there is no other,” she told me, dabbing a tear from her eye, as she remembered her husband, even almost 40 years after losing the love of her life.
That’s how I know that we can be sure, as my cousin Nance said - that Uncle Tony was there to greet her and ask her simply, “what took you so long?”
Theirs was a marriage like no other, this was a couple like no other pairing and this – this was what “til death do us part” meant. Okay, so maybe a union shouldn’t be totally skewed to give the woman everything she wants when she wants it, but after all, this was Aunt Lil, so the bar was set a little too high for anyone else to emulate. Before the term, “soul mate” was even coined; she discovered hers and to the day she left us, she never stopped loving that man.
And it’s that love that she had for Uncle Tony … and all of us… that we will carry around in our hearts for ever – because she will never truly leave us.
To quote from my brother’s favorite poem by Mary Frye.
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
That last line is true, isn’t it? For though we are here today to pay our respects, I will not say they are our “final” ones. For this amazing woman will always be, not only a part of the family she knew, but also a legend to the ones who are yet to come.
And, who here wants to bet that right now, Olympia Margarita Staffieri Gregorie is arguing with God about the lousy scratch tickets they have in heaven.
May God bless her.
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