Loss of Rose

1973 My husband had an older sister, Rose, whom we visited quite often. She lived in her own apartment with her daughter Mary, in Summit, N.J. Since my mother died when I was 21, Tony's sister was like a mother to me. I would go to her with all my problems. She always helped in any way possible. She could sew and knit beautifully, cook and bake. Rose loved my husband. He was her only brother; he also loved her. She is the one who came to Closter the day we moved. She stayed one week. Her husband died about 15 years before she did. She had five children: two boys and three girls. She was a good mother to them.

Rose was a sick woman for quite a while, but she kept right on going. She used to tell me, “If you should lose your husband, live in your own apartment, close to one of the children. That way you will have your independence. Cook what is good for you and what you like. You can invite one of your children to come for dinner with their family. Make a few new friends, keep the old ones. You need a lot of friends besides your family to keep your life full.”

She also used to say, “Everyday when I get up I do one important thing and then the regular routine. It fills my day and keeps me happy.”

Rose always had lasagna or pizza in the freezer in case her brother came to visit her. She would say she liked it when I visited her. I would help her get the meal together. I learned where she kept everything.

We have afghans, scarves, gloves, bedroom slippers, and a pink shawl, all made for us with her own hands. They are well made. I treasure them.

In October of 1973 Rose's health was failing fast. We went to visit her more often. My husband would say, “I don't think my sister is going to live much longer.”

Rose's daughter Mary decided to have Christmas in August because of her mother. She invited her mother's two sisters, their husbands, her brother and me, Rose's children and their partners and a few of the grandchildren. We all exchanged gifts.

We had a picnic in Mary's backyard. Rose was thrilled to see us all together. We took pictures of the party. We can look at them today. All this was done because we thought Rose wouldn't make it to Christmas. Rose had been in and out of the hospital quite a bit. She was a religious person, very close to God. She always thanked God for the 80 years with which she was blessed. She knew what she was talking about until the end.

On December 5, 1973, Rose passed away. Her grandson, Henry Scala, directed the funeral. She had had a hard life. She never complained. She lost a daughter during a heart operation. Her daughter was 54. Then she lost a son, Joe, also with a heart condition. He was 51. It took her a long time to get over that. My husband felt terrible about his sister Rose's death. He didn't talk too much about her, because he didn't want to upset me. He knew how much I cared about Rose. Our daughter Carmela drove my husband and me to the funeral in Summit, N.J.

While we were there Carmela's brother called to tell her that her father-in-law had dropped dead from a heart attack in Florida. His wife had died many years before him. He had bought a small home in Spring Hill, Florida. He made friends and liked the place very much. Mario and Carmela would go and stay with him once a year for one week. My daughter would cook a stuffed turkey dinner. He loved that. They often invited some of his friends. Mario's father had decided he wanted to be buried in Florida, so when they had the funeral he was buried in Florida. Mario was his only child. Mario and Carm still go to Florida once a year to see that the house his father left him is in good order.