Madeline Martha Vicchiarelli Orlando Colletti

That was her full name, and her married names attached at the end, but I just called her Nanny. On Monday I called her my best Nanny ever, and told her I loved her, and gave her a kiss and a hug. This morning my grandmother took her final breath at 6:55am and Nanny is no longer on this Earth. Its hard to comprehend when analyzed at the most deepest level, despite the expectation of death given the diagnosis and prognosis of lung cancer--inoperable. The cancer came in 2008 at the age of 80 years old, then came the congestive heart failure, the fall that broke her hip, then other hip, relocating to the middle of Pennsylvania from her beloved Philadelphia. Then just last month she broke her pelvis, and then she was forbidden from getting out of bed without assistance. She never got back up out of that bed during the last few weeks. The body is good for only a certain period of time and then it fails. Her body failed today and in the end the cancer probably took over her thoughts as communication was difficult during the past week.

So much to tell, yet so little to say. I am going through a few pages of recipes that I culled from recipe books that belonged to Nanny. As soon as she went into the assisted living facility she wanted everything "gone"- thrown away, given away, whatever. She just wanted it gone. I think the abruptness of tossing it all away was her way of dealing with the sadness of losing her mobility and freedom. The realization that she was never going back "home" and that she was never going to see her apartment on the 13th floor of Casi Fermi in Philadelphia again, nor was she ever to see her friends Dottie and RoseMarie either. This breaks my heart. She was always an independent woman. A single mom for a very long time, pretty much for all of the 37 years that I've known her, divorcing the first husband, Frank, a widow to the 2nd, Ben, and then a parting of ways to the man she loved last, Bill.

She told stories all of the time. Every story was funny and made your belly hurt from laughing so hard. She loved to be the center of attention but not in a show off kinda way, she just made sure you were having a good time by not only cooking heaps and pounds of food for you but entertaining you with her wit and storytelling.

Nanny was the best cook I've ever come across. She could take a food and tell you all of the ingredients in it just by tasting it. She made concoctions; her teeny tiny kitchen was her laboratory. . . things always sizzling and simmering, scents and aromas wafting out over the kitchen wall into her teeny tiny living room. Before moving to Casi Fermi she lived in apartments and duplexes and even owned several houses in the 1950s, 60s and 70s in New Jersey and Philadelphia. But no matter the size of the kitchen, she managed to whip up something so delicious you were left wanting more and wanting to come back over and over again for visits.

Each person had their own favorite food of hers and she would make it for you when she was preparing to see you for a visit. For me it was Friday meatballs (recipe to follow) or "crabs and macaroni" or fresh mozzarella cheese, she called that "scamotz." She didn't make the cheese, she bought it from a little Italian deli on 9th Street in Philadelphia, that is still there making their fresh mozzarella daily. When I was a kid and attended elementary school she would often surprise me for lunch and bring me cheese. I felt so special and honored that she would take the time out to bring *me* something that she knew I loved. And to bring it to me in school and then proceed to sit with me and have lunch with me!? It was the best and I have never forgotten her surprises.

I was always happy and elated when Nanny came for a visit. She only lived 20 minutes away from us but as a child that seemed like a million miles. When she would arrive at our house, it made me feel that all was right with the world--that if things were bad that Nanny would take care of me and save me from whatever the bad was. When I was about 7 or 8 I used to go to her house in Philadelphia and sleepover. Apparently, whenever I would sleep over I drove my Aunt Nancy crazy (she lived at home while attending college) because I always wanted to be with her and be in her room and go through her makeup and nail polish! My Aunt Nancy is my moms sister, and Nanny's 2nd and youngest daughter. My mom Denise is Nanny's oldest daughter.

During the summer months Nanny would crank up the air conditioning units so high that I remember cuddling up in the covers smiling and happy to be there in the cool bed and the cold room. Made me feel cozy I guess. I still love a cold room and lots of covers on top of me.

When I was little and spent the nights at her house, she would feed me lamb chops for dinner and coffee ice cream for dessert. Sometimes she would make me a bowl of pastina, which were teeny tiny balls of pasta, as small as the specks of wheat in cream of wheat, and she would add melted butter and salt to it. One of my favorite memories was watching the Channel 6 Action news with her (it has this catchy theme song that I can still hear in my head) and eating the cold, smooth coffee ice cream. It seems that Nanny offered me the things that she loved, she shared them with me, all of her favorite things.

When I was born, my mom was a young single mother and we lived with my Nanny and my Aunt Nancy until I was about 3 years old. When my own kids were three years old I reflected on how close my kids were to me and my husband, how strong the bond was between us. In just 3 short years me and my husband Adam were all they knew; we were their parents and their world. After much reflection I think that my Nanny, my aunt and my mother were my parents for those few formative years. They were the closest people to me for 3 years, certainly helping with my care, feeding, bathing, changing diapers, holding, kissing, cuddling... there is no way to doubt their impact on my life not just from a familial relationship but a real true parental bond relationship. I think this is why I felt so close to them, and "attached" to them. They were my world, they helped raise me and were all I knew in the beginning. Think about your own kids' attachment to their father from birth to 3 years old, its pretty strong. And so I feel that leaving Nanny and Aunt Nancy's home when I was 3 to go live with my mom and her new husband... I think something, somewhere was lost, and broken.

I grew up always feeling like I was trying to catch Nanny or Aunt Nancy. Catch them and hold them close to me, catch them from flying out of my hands... again. Yearning to be with them, to be close to them, to please them. All of the time. I look back and feel a sense of desperation that I had as a child... always wanting to be with Nanny but never really understanding where the yearning came from. I now know it was from living and growing and being cared for by her for 3 years. I feel its for this reason I felt such a close connection to her all of my life. I want to say to people, you know she wasn't *just* a grandmother, she wasn't like all of the other grandmothers... she took care of me and loved me as if I was her own daughter.

I expected her death to come this week. I expected her to pass away in the middle of the night. What I didn't expect was the physical debilitation I feel. I suppose its the grief and the sadness manifesting themselves as physical responses. I had a hard time getting out of bed and doing anything today. I felt like a zombie. I expected that I would be sad, yet able to compartmentalize, but I am not able to do that right now. My every thought is with Nanny, or about Nanny and its hard. I mourn the loss of a soul that I loved so deeply and a woman who I admired greatly. I mourn the loss of her life for her... knowing that she was not really all that ready to die. In these last few weeks though she was ready, but prior to this she wished she would get better but she said she knew that was not going to happen. Nanny, I miss you already. Please stay with me and watch over me and talk to me and come see me in my dreams. Please don't ever leave me. I still need you in my life. Thank you for loving me. I love you so so sooooooooooo much.
Rest softly and gently and be free. I hope my friends have welcomed you with open arms.