salts were waved,she sat up slowly,then Uncle Vince and, Daddy would hold slowly lift her from the padded floor, whisper in her ear and kind of propel her forward a few feet. Then the process would start all over. It took my poor 5" 100# Aunt Mar about 30 minutes to walk down that twenty foot aisle. I will never forget her heart wrenching sobs when she finally knelt to give Timmy a kiss as he lay in that brushed silver casket.


Aunt Mar could never find purchase after Timmy. She didn't come to the parties
anymore. I missed that tiny lady with the commanding presence. She was a
jokester. A kidder. Riling up a situation just to sit back and laugh as it unfolded.
I loved it when she jerked her thumb at my Uncle Vince and said:" I gotta get this
one home." Meaning that Uncle Vince had too much fun. She lost that joie d'vive
after Timmy. It's understandable.
When my Dad and I would visit her and Uncle Vince on Sunday (after the cemetery to see grandpa, grandma and my dad's nine year old brother Rocco) she was glad to see us, as glad as she could be to see anyone that wasn't Timmy. We would sit at the kitchen table in her new condo with the plastic table cloth and wax fruit bowl eating spaghetti and meatballs. My Dad...from here on in, Louie, would talk in Italian to Aunt Mar and Uncle Vince. I was always the super snoop and sat there hoping to pick up a few pieces of family gossip. But they went too fast, I couldn't catch a word. It would be years before I studied French in school and finally got a notion. Then of course they stopped talking in front of me. She lived a long life after Timmy but the obvious hole in her heart stayed open. It is tragic not only to lose someone you love but then to experience the emotional death of the persons left to deal is a constant reminder.
On the other hand, Aunt Mar's death, sad as it was and the subsequent death
of Uncle Vince one month later, while not a before and after for me, I am quite
sure was for their remaining child, Timmy's sister, Carmella.