- Chapter 50 - Mum...I think its time to get rid of these too, Lucia said, her arms filled with an assortment of trinkets and ceramic statues shed pulled out of the wall unit. As she placed the items in the market pile, Francesca eyed each item. Gees, I remember these, said Antonio, picking up a sugar bowl and creamer. Nonna always took this out when the visiti came over. It was part of her good set. He smiled at the memory. Lucia, careful what you put in this pile, said Francesca, sifting through each ceramic or glass piece. They had decided that some things were to be kept, other things would be donated to charity, the other stuff they would sell at the market. This for example, she said lifting out a glass jug. The frosted coloured glass panels and gold trimmings made the jug quite ornate looking. Who would use that? asked Lucia, conscience of the amount of trinkets Francesca had placed in the keep pile. This was one of very few things your Nonna brought with her to Australia. It was part of a wedding gift when she married your Nonno. There are matching glasses too somewhere. Francesca turned it over and inspected it before setting it aside and rummaging for the glasses. Do you think I could keep that? asked Antonio, his words so soft they were nearly inaudible. Francesca turned and observed her son. It was a hard day today, sorting through Mamma Testaduras treasured belongings, deciding what would stay and what would go. Pasquale had found it far too difficult and wanted to let his wife and children do it. But Francesca had underestimated the effect it would have on her children, especially her first born child. Hed had a special connection to his Nonna and although this clean up was partly to make way for the beginning of his new life, it was still painful. Of course you can bello. That goes for you too Lucia. Anything youd like to keep, please take it. Especially the older stuff. Your Nonna would be thrilled to know that her most treasured things were being passed through the family. Suddenly overwhelmed with emotion herself, Francesca bent down and continued to sort, wiping the tears from her cheeks. At that moment, something caught her eye. A familiar trinket...two swans entwined in a semi-embrace. Smiling to herself, she lifted it out of the pile. Are we really going to sell this? Yes! Why? Do you want to keep it? Seems that every Italian family has one of those, like its mandatory or something. Weve got one too, said Lucia chuckling. Francesca sighed. It was mine and your fathers wedding bombonieri. It was very fashionable at the time, she said, turning it over before placing it in the pile to be sold at the market. Lucia and Antonio looked at each other. Mum...I think I want to hang onto that, said Lucia reaching forward to salvage the swans. Unless you want it? she asked, turning to her brother. If Antonio wants it, he can have our one, said Francesca standing up. Come on guys...weve only just started. We still have crockery to do, furniture, then the harder stuff...photos, clothes, linen, jewellery...so much. Lets keep moving. The rest of the day was spent sorting through Nonnas things, sharing and swapping stories. The nostalgia prompted a roller coaster of emotions; sometimes theyd laugh, other times theyd cry and some times theyd fall silent, buried deep in their own intimate memories that they wanted to keep for themselves. Oh remember these dishes? Nonna used to put her pulpetti in this one and her cotollette in this one. Id kill for her cotollette now! Shed always make me luovo sbatuto in this cup. Ohhh! Her malocchio plate! I’ll hang on to that. I used to love putting on this necklace and these rings when Nonna would let me. This was my favorite Nonna outfit. It looked so nice on her. Look how young Nonna looks in this photo with Nonno. She loved this Luis Vuitton knock-off bag I brought back from my trip to Thailand for her. She would always take it to church. How many cans of Mr Sheen does Nonna have stashed in this cupboard? “They must have been on special at Big W.” She crocheted this blanket herself...and embroidered the rosettes on the edge of this sheet. Heres that Padre Pio relic...I took it into my exams with me. I’ll hang on to that. Look at Nonnas fungia in this photo from mum and dads wedding! She looks happier in this photo...whos the man standing with her? With each new item and comment, Francesca would fill in the parts of the story her children wouldnt know. She told them how Nonna and Nonno boarded a ship for Australia three weeks after they were married; how she was only 19 years old at the time; how Nonna never saw her mother or father again; how shed only brought a few items with her to remember her childhood in Italy; how happy shed been when her sister Rosa came to Australia to live; how heartbroken shed been when Nonno was scammed out of the very little savings theyd brought with them from Italy; how difficult those first years were for them to find a job with little or no English; how theyd take little Pasquale to the monthly Floridia Club dances as a way of feeling they were around family; how hard shed worked to establish a secure life in a new country. Gees, no wonder she was the master of the fungia! said Lucia. What a tough life. Im 20 and couldnt bear the thought of leaving you and dad to live in another country for ever, never to see you again. And she was only 19! At the market the following day, Francesca continued to retell Nonnas story - how devastated Nonna had been when Nonno died and how much she continued to miss him; how upset she was when Pasquale had told her they were getting married; how shed had a special friendship with Vito whod left her a considerable amount in his will; how shed given it all to Vitos son because she thought it was the right thing to do; and how thrilled shed been at the birth of her two grandchildren. With each new story, Antonio began to feel an increasing unease about selling Nonnas things. By lunchtime, he had become so visibly upset that he felt the need to be alone, so he made an excuse to his mother and sister and went for a walk around the market. Francesca could see something was on Antonios mind and once he returned, she pulled him aside for a chat. Antonio, whats the matter? she asked, pulling him down to sit on an upturned crate beside her. Antonio hung his head. I miss Nonna and feel I never really appreciated her when I had the chance and now its too late. A tear rolled down his cheek. Francesca put her arm around her son. Antonio, Nonna had a hard life, yes thats true. But she had so many happy times too. She had a son which she loved dearly. She had friends and family around her; she had you and Lucia...she was surrounded by love and good times too...right to the very end. Its not right that we sell her things...they are a testament to her ever existing and now were selling them like they mean nothing. Antonio sobbed into his hands. Francesca continued to hug her son, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. She knew that the next words to come out of her mouth were very important for Antonio and would have a profound effect on him, so she wanted to get it right. Antonio, inanimate objects are not the testament of a persons life. Thats just stuff! The true testament is in the memories we have of those people who have gone...the moments we shared, the way they made us feel. Your Nonna was a tough woman to get along with at times, but she had a good heart and she loved her family to pieces. We keep her alive through sharing those stories and memories. Your father, you and your sister...you are the true testaments to Nonnas existence. You are her legacy. That night, Antonios head swirled with all the stories and events hed heard throughout the day. His emotions were in turmoil as he thought about what his mother had said. He knew she was right. Genealogy WAS a persons legacy...he and Lucia were Mamma Testaduras legacy...and yet...there was a story here that needed to be told. He sat before his computer. Under normal circumstances, Antonio would sit here with copious notes he had written after interviewing various people. Hed then begin writing other peoples stories, believing that all migration stories were the same, filled with unhappy events about hardship, loneliness and sacrifice. And in this, hed always felt that Italians particularly were all just shades of the same three colours. But today, right now, it was different. This was his Nonnas story...his mothers story...his fathers story...a story of migration, love, food and family expectations. And there was much to celebrate. His fingers trembled with emotion as they found their familiar positions on the keys. He began to type - Shades of Green, White and Red...Chapter 1. He felt the truth in his heart...printed words are forever...people arent. This was his own familys history; his Nonnas story. This was her true legacy.
Posted on: Thu, 24 Oct 2013 06:26:43 +0000
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