i remember january 2, 2015 like it was yesterday.
i remember waking up at 9:14 am with my cousin.
i remember my brother coming in my room to tell us my nonni was dead.
i remember yelling at him, like it was his fault or something.
i remember being angry.
i remember not knowing when i'd smile again.
i remember not being able to breathe.
i remember my mom coming home for the first time in five days.
i remember going through photos for the funeral.
i remember pulling out the black dress she always loved on me.
i remember three days later, seeing my nonni, so still, still beautiful.
i remember my friends and family hugging me.
i remember being numb.
i remember crying so much, i couldn't even read the eulogy i wrote.
i remember my uncle singing "you raise me up" for her.
i remember  january 6th, her funeral.
i remember slipping that black dress on.
i remember being there.
i remember people talking.
i remember a priest.
i remember maria squeezing my arm.
i remember paula reading a Bible verse.
i remember my mom holding me as my body shook.
i remember wailing as everyone took communion.
i remember not being able to stand.
i remember my friends and family trying to hug me.
i remember them carrying her out.
i remember taking a rose off her casket.
i remember holding that rose so tight, that the thorns cut my skin.
i remember remembering everything my nonni ever did or said.
i remember not thinking i'd ever get through this.
i remember screaming.
i remember trying to hide the pain.
i remember being broken.
i remember not being able to breathe.
i remember hurting.
i remember everything.
i remember her.

So this, readers and friends
Is where it began
I don't know where it ends
But let's look back again

A fourteen year old is writing
In a hospital room
Far her right in bright lighting
Is great-grandma, who'll die soon

She has few memories of her
As she wonders about home
Nonni keeps asking mother
Not to leave the girls alone

Now we're back in the hospital
On some Pennsylvanian hill
Thirty five family members in total
Nonni's more than ill

Christmas day, and we're at a friend's house
When we hear that final call
A week later, I'm at a funeral, sounding like a mouse
For someone I nearly didn't know at all

Looking back, that was the start
Of most of my questions
On society, religion, art
What the rules really ment

I found a taste for the books
That mom didn't like
I expanded my looks
Gained interest in the night

I started growing apart
From those I once knew
With secrets in my heart
My friends were my closest few

I learned more about a family
That I once thought typical
And (mostly) solved my belifs
On the meaning of "it all"

I look back on the before
As though regarding a cat
It's cute innocence I adore
I find it hard to believe I was that

I still have that Christmas blanket
A snow leopard, her last gift
For a woman I saw maybe four or five times, it
Still has a nice warmth to it

So sometimes I dream of a mint hospital wall
And think back to the start of it all

i am so sick and tired of the cancer game, that is merely what it is; a game. this game is four quarters long (on the other hand we could say it was four years). you watch from the bench as your team and cancer each score goals, each winning at different times in the game. but cancer is strong and a hell of a lot better at fighting. you sit on the bench, kicking and screaming, as you watch cancer tear your team to shreds. cancer doesn’t give up.

1st quarter; your team is winning, but still unable to walk without a walker.

2nd quarter; cancer is kicking *** and you keep begging to be put in, you want to help fight; it’s not your turn yet. cancer is winning.

3rd quarter is a race against time, the teams are tied, but you know what is going to happen, but no one wants to say it; you’ve already lost the game.

4th quarter; the game might as well be over. everyone has stopped cheering. they’ve lost all hope, but you continue to scream because you won’t be able to come back from this season.

10 minutes left; 3 months. the team has pretty much stopped playing; treatment is stopped. you still think your team will win, because they’ve pulled through before, right?

5 minutes left; 1 month. you hold tight to your team, you cannot stop holding tight. you know the ending, but no one will say it, still. you cherish every blank stare and gibberish speech. you take in exactly how she says your name and the way she holds her spoon. the game is coming to an end.

10 seconds left; 1 week. it’s getting harder, the field is dark and slippery, you cannot see what is right in front of you.

5 seconds left; 3 days. you hold your teammate as she sobs on the bench. you make do.

3 seconds left; 2 days. a time where you should be celebrating. you continue to look deeper within for some sort of answer from God, but you’re so full of doubt and despair that you cannot seem to find Him within the mess.

1 second left; 1 day. you call your mom to tell her about the game and how you cannot see a thing, but she is watching closer than you. you ask how the player is doing and she tells you it’s almost over. you find yourself praying for the end to come sooner, now maybe; but you can’t seem to imagine life without the game.

0 seconds left; the end. you stop, but the world around you keeps going. you’re broken inside, but you can barely keep it hidden. you walk out with a smile, that everyone can see through. you’re not going to be okay for a while. your nonni, she’s gone.

you go to the recognition ceremony and hold your cousin’s hand while others talk about the greatest player of all time, but you cannot seem to find the strength inside you to stand up and share how you found God again and how your nonni is to thank, because oh how awful it sounds to thank someone for having cancer and breaking you. you cling to your seat for days, wishing that things would change, but they don’t

you will have more seasons; better ones and worse ones too, you will get through them too.

it's about the time of year
that i get sad again
it's about the time of year
that i found out you were dying,
i didn't know if you'd be here at christmas

it's about the time of year
where you started slurring words
and forgetting things too,
but you bought me those boots for christmas
and told me about them a month early
you were so happy about them

it's about the time of year
where i can't breathe
i don't know if it's because of asthma
or if i'm imagining
how it felt to breathe like that

it's about the time of year
where i'd imagine i was on a boat
in the middle of a faraway lake in the UP
i'm a child again and she's much younger too
she's not sick, she's not dying

it's about the time of year
where cancer took my nonni's brain
and made her forget who she was
and how to do things

it's about the time of year
where i cried myself to sleep every night
and prayed to God,
that he'd take anyone but her, take me instead

I remember Nonni's hospital room
I remember nights staring at the moon
I remember the smell of pie
I remember leaving junior high
I remember sailing in a storm
I remember rolling backpacks as a norm
I remember airports and planes
I remember speaking with wax vampire fangs
I remember all of the rain
I remember some of my pain
I remember what I can
I hope I remember who I am

.



hey, for some reason.. I'm sending this at this moment right now, it feels strong, so pardon my (seeming) boldness.
Just saying that I'm here for you, any time.. when or if you should ever wanna talk, ok.
On anything, or nothing, too :)

I am happy for you, cutes :) if you find you in the space and place where all fine/wellness comes.
Season is changing here and still, I see through the murky window of (my) life affording not much in long view despite being alert, etc.
I am persevering: I will find peace.

I do miss you very much, yet I understand....
hugs 4 ever
nonni