Journal Entry: Saturday, May 22, 2021 Happy Birthday to my dear husband, Paul Kwasniewski, who would be 74 years old today. I wish he were out here on the back porch sitting next to me. If he were still alive, we probably would have gone out to breakfast and planned to share dinner with the girls and Joe and his family. As it is, Em and I talked about sharing dinner while writing down the many quirky sayings he often used that reflected his great sense of humor and made us laugh, and all the more now in his absence. It has been more than four years since he left us. When people ask me how grief affects my life now, the best response I can offer is that the overall malaise that hovered like a dense cloud cover on an otherwise sunny day has lifted. But grief still comes…
A eulogy for my father
Following is the eulogy I wrote and presented at my father’s funeral on December 7, 2019. Although it was written to be spoken, I hope you can hear the tone with which it was delivered. My father, Joseph Amicangelo, was born on January 14, 1922, in the small village of Pacentro in the Abruzzo region of Italy. He was the youngest of four children born to his parents, Caesare Amicangelo and Carolina Lalama. He is the brother of the late Carlo Amicangelo, Philomena Pompeo and Louis Amicangelo. He was married to my mom, the late Rose Petix, for 61 years. His devoted daughters include Linda (Ismael) Rodriguez, Laura Thurman, Carolina (Franco) Greco, and me, JoAnn (the late Paul Kwasniewski) Amicangelo. He was the proud grandfather of Angela (Anthony) Maicki, Jennifer (Jamie) Thiede, Marisa Greco, Matthew Rodriguez, Zachary (Katie) Amicangelo, Lisa (Steve) Nazoyan, Rachel Rodriguez, Gino Greco, Emilie Kwasniewski and Elise…
Worst day of my life
Today I am honored to share with you an essay written by a young woman who is near and dear to my heart. She is 17 years young and a junior in high school. She wrote this descriptive piece for an Honors English class assignment. I don’t know what grade her teacher gave it, but I give it an A++. I suspect you will, too. Yesterday By Madeline Nickles Yesterday was the worst day of my life. I woke up the morning of this horrid day, my eyes red and swollen from the night before, my silk pillowcase still damp from the unyielding tears that just wouldn’t seem to stop flowing. Looking around my sister’s room, I grimace as the blinding morning sun pokes through her curtains like an outstretched hand. I see my sister, Abby, still fast asleep on her bed, blissfully unaware of the new day mercilessly attempting…
Grief is a pain in the soul
Grief is a peculiar thing. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it, creeping into your consciousness through images and hidden memories come to life. You see his picture on your phone – the same picture you see every time you open it – but this time, it surprises you to see him again. A dream awakens you in the early morning hours with a start because it was so real. You’re sure he’s back. You look at his side of the bed to find the pillows and blankets in the same position as when you finally fell asleep last night and the night before. Still, you imagine him there, sleepy eyes opening to see you, his hand reaching over to touch you, to calm your fears. Grief jerks you into reality. Like a little girl awakened from a bad dream, you slip out of bed, eyes…