Lydia

My aunt Lydia died yesterday.

She was a person who made life fun, who made life better. She brought something tangible to this world. She was tough, independent, unique and goddamn funny. She always had a joke. Right up to the last time I spoke to her, which was not that long ago.

She was my father's sister. There were four siblings - Tony, Ida, Carmen and Lydia. Four remarkable people.

They were raised by Giuseppe and Christina  - my grandparents. Straight off the boat from Italy. Tony (my father) and Ida, were born in Italy. Carmen and Lydia were born in this country. What is remarkable is that given their upbringing, which I'm sure was not easy - these four people grew up tough, confident, and with amazing senses of humor. All of them could make you laugh. And all of them made something of their lives. Against all odds.

I attribute their strength and outlook to my grandfather, who was tough enough to raise a family in this foreign land, but also intelligent and funny. He made me laugh, even though he spoke broken English. Christina was one tough lady, a stereotypical old school Italian mother who took no shit. I can't really discount her effect on her kids because I don't know enough about their childhood. She may have had a big impact on how amazing these four grew to be.

But I'm going with my gut. I'm giving Giueseppe most of the credit.

Being around Lydia was always a blast because she spoke her mind. She was not afraid. She could make you laugh - she was always, always fun - and you could also have a great conversation with her. A serious conversation. A sensitive one. 

She was a fighter and a survivor. A great mother to Tina and Maria because she set an example of confident independence at a time when that was not the way it was done.

As I think about it, I think that maybe people in this situation have a better appreciation for life than those of us who grew up in a more pampered environment. Hense a tougher outlook and more fine tuned sense of humor. Maybe life was more vital to them. More colorful. More real.

Lydia's death closes a door. Loudly. My mother's side - Rita, Dina and my mother - are all gone. My father's side - Ida, Carmen, Lydia and my dad - are all gone.

My brother and I have been on the sidelines for many years. Now we have been called on to the field. A very strange sensation indeed.

I am proud of the blood that runs through my veins. My family was diverse, colorful, unique and accomplished. They had style, baby. The Italian heritage is a strong one, a proud one, and they all wore it well.

I am not doing Lydia justice. Life is too precious, and each life lived too unique, to be summarized in a few words. 

But let me say this: not every human is unique; many are carbon copies. But unique is the perfect place to start when talking about Lydia, because she was unique, she lived it, she projected it, she was her own person, and that is probably the most important thing you can bring to a life. That, and strength, and she had both.

She is the last to go, and she wore the family mantle well. She did our family proud. And her own family as well.

I did not see enough of her, not even close - but I always loved and respected her. You'll have to take my word for it.

As I get older, I value laughter and sensitivity more and more. She gave me both.

I love you, Aunt Lydia. I will miss you.