"For His 50th Birthday"

"Happy 50th Birthday"
Dear husband of mine ;)
How does it feel? Oh, better
Than the alternative, you say.
Ok.... @@
I really did buy you a birthday card
But I've misplaced it!
I know, hard to believe, but it's gone!
Maybe Leo ate it?
I wanted to let you know
That if I had the chance
I would marry you all over again!
The years have flown by.
We will be 80 when we celebrate our 50th anniversary!
So enjoy your 50th Birthday dear husband of mine.
80 will be here in a blink of an eye ~

A memory book for you
To look at when you are away
At work for the week.
I hope you enjoy it
As much as I did putting it
Together for you.
The story is not over,
There will be much more to add
As the years go by....
Husbands for our daughters,
Grandchildren! Oh my!
But hang on to your seat
Cuz you know what I told you
About time flying by
In a blink of an eye ;)
Dear husband of mine!

Author: Me

In Memory of my Father

In the year nineteen twenty one, His life had just begun. With the help
of a midwife, In a little house in *******, He was born to an abusive
father and a loving mother. There were so many sisters and brothers
The little house was bursting at the seems. He was number thirteen.

For these immigrants from Sicily, There was pasta, bread and lard.
Seldom meat, life was hard.

He learned early to fight and share, and run for cover when his father
was there. It was his mother that taught him her golden rule, Her faith
of God and her love of family.

He spoke Italian at home, he learned English in school. Through seven
grades, he gave his best. He would have to teach himself the rest.

Winter found him at the railroad tracks, Throwing stones at the passing
coal cars. The railroad men through coal in return; In their cold and drafty
house, it would burn.

Summers were spent in a lean-to by the river, to cultivate and guard
their community garden. Over an open fire, his mother cooked lunch.
They were always a lean and hungry bunch.

As an amateur boxer, he fought one year. A sport he would always hold
dear. Kid ****** was his name. Fighting was his game.

He never had much money, But would always find work.
No matter how hard the task, Or how many hours it took, He got the job
done, and managed to leave time for fun.

After employment with the WPA, Roosevelts' Tree Army sounded good to
him. A two year enlistment in the Civilian Conservation Corps, From
sunup to sundown-hard work and more. Wheelbarrow, shovel, pickax
and strong young backs built the locks on the River Illinois.

While working for the CCC, He met his wife to be. They were a well
matched pair, and would go the distance through the long and lean years
With Courage and care.

Pearl Harbor, the shock and sorrow of that day, Somebody had to pay!
To defend his country, he felt obliged His wife cried and cried. So he
stayed on the home front and Built the LST's in the Senica Shipyards,
Until he could stand it no more. He answered his country's call And
enlisted to fight the war With the 4th Division Marine Corp.

Training was brutal, combat was worse. He was introduced to the
sights, sounds and smells of battle, To death and destruction on a massive
scale, To fear, valor, unknown hardships And friendships forged for a
lifetime, To the hell that was Iwo Jima Where he did his part. Twenty
six days And a Purple Heart.

On return to Civilian life, He became a staunch
defender of Veteran's rights.

He took pride of being a member of the 52-20 club for only two weeks.
He found employment in the cement mills, and worked for a poor man's
dollar, Each week, often fifty to sixty hours. He bought our home on the
GI Bill.

Two children were born before the war And two after the war. His half-
acre garden would provide our vegetables; His pear, apple and cherry
trees our fruit. He hunted rabbit for our winter meat. At table, he was
always the last to eat.

As a devout member of his church, he was active in the fundraising And
construction of the building, That stands today in all it's beauty As a
shrine to those veterans of WWII.

He was an active member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars,
The American Legion, The Catholic War Veterans and The Oglesby
Memorial Group. He was honored to be a Marine And one of the first
officers of the Marine Corps League. Carrying petitions and marching in
parades, Coming to anothers veteran's aid, Calling on governors, senators
all, Never loosing sight of the problems to be solved. Ten years
working on the St. Mary's project, Finally success-the
Veteran's Home And no regrets.

He was brash, boisterous and bellicose, With strength and stamina to
spare. He made his way through life through good times and bad,
Caring and sharing all that he had. His commitment to God, country and
family never wavered. He never tired of flying the flag that he favored.
He was a good man possessed of great character. Duty and honor were
not words to him, They were a way of life. He was a proud patriot of a
great generation.

The giant of a man stood five feet four, He served his country in peace
time and war. He was steadfast, loyal and true, His favorite colors were
the red, white and blue.

Joy and sorrow, Success and failure, Loss and disappointment,
Intertwined to make up the sum of his long years. He kept the faith and
worked hard though it all. He was the protector, provider, caregiver and
strength of our family. Illness, accident, injury and great losses would
not defeat him Until Alzheimer's.......

He entered the Veteran's Home he helped to build for others. Confusion,
frustration and madness claimed his mind, Shattered his world, And
scattered his thoughts, Leaving him prey to nameless fears and vague
elusive threats, Often fighting the war he fought before.

Calling out to loved ones long gone who did not answer, Their perceived
desertion brought renewed grief and bewilderment. His mind suspended
somewhere between heaven and hell Lost and alone in an umfamiliar
universe whose language he could not speak.

Moments of carity brought Brief glimpses of the man he had been. But
the inevitable return of his failing and altered mind, Would just break
our hearts again.

Finally, joyously, Eighty five years from the day he was born, God
called his name, Gabriel blew the horn and Peter threw the
gates open wide. He stepped inside.

Author: My sister

In Memory of my Mother

Daughter, wife, mother
There was no other
like her.
In youth, she stood straight and tall
Eager for all
that life would offer.
Strong willed
Hard working
Tough talking
Clothes sewer
Vegetable grower
And canner
Flower planter
Chicken raiser
Doily maker
Chef and baker
Bingo player
Rodent slayer
Learned early to do without
Or just make do
Clever at making something from nothing
Both giving and demanding
Good at reprimanding
Afraid of heights and water
Fierce in defense of others
Hammer wielding
Never yeilding
Quick to anger and answer
Quick to laughter or tears
Quick to give a helping hand
Or a boot in the rear
A long hard life
A good life
Until time and illness bent her frame
And slowed her steps
Leaving her helpless to tears and suffering
Her husband always beside her
Loving her
Caring for her
Until God in his mercy called her home
Ten years ago today.
There was no other
Like our mother
We miss her more each day.

Author: My sister

"Its No Secret"

Why is it we fear the topic of death,
Are we afraid of dieing,
Or do we fear letting go?

Death shouldn't be painful,
But it is
-emotionally, physically, mentally, spiritually
Death is witnessed everyday
-catastrophe, suicide, overdrive

Some of the old are left to die alone
A child is helped to die with ease,
Not left alone to struggle with that breath or disease
The old have lived, that much is known
Been there done that, but left alone

Witnessing, waiting, anticipating
One last breath
A dieing request
Fear of retreat,
What is beneath?
Hopes of floating
The ultimate glory
Finding inner peace in times of despair
Believing that there is,
Something better out there

The breath in and no return
That person is gone, there is no more concern
What is left now are none short of memories, pictures, and cares
How quickly those fade
In times of despair

New life begins as one is forgotten
Don't think too much into this
Death is not rotten.

Author: My middle daughter 2004

MY PLACE

What do you see when you look at me?
The little girl I used to be?
I've grown old and fat and full of care
I look before me and no one's there.

Where did they go-
The generation ahead of me?
Was I too busy
I didn't see?
One by one they took their leave
I am left to grieve

And wonder how life went so fast.
So much love now in the past.
The working, the striving
The caring, the dying
So busy living
No time to think.
Then I blinked
And they are gone.
My hair now is white
Soon it is night
No more time
I take my place at the head of the line.

Author: My sister
April 22, 2007