I would like to begin by thanking everyone in attendance today. Thank you for being here to pay your respects to mom, also known as Nanny to Ryan, Lindsay and Brandon, her loving grandchildren and Brad, her devoted son in-law. Thank you for your friendship, love and inspiration that you gave her over the 101years. My mom was a kind-hearted, compassionate and caring woman. This helpful nature was evident at an early age. My mom grew up in a large family with two brothers Carl and Basil and three sisters. She was the fourth child born to Carmela Tacconi and Salvator Romano. She was born in 1916, during one of the big Italian immigration waves in Toronto. Her sister Josephine was previously born in Sicily. The Romano's primarily lived in the east end, Sackville, Belshaw and Woodmount Avenue. At times they shared a residence with the Libonati's. She lost her mother to tuberculosis. My grandmother was only 32 years of age and Josephine suffered the same fate at age 25. Josephine left behind Brunetta and Vincent Libonati. Anyone who me Etta loved her. When the depression hit Madeleine was raised in a convent with her sister Louise by the Carmelite Sister's. She remained a devote Catholic. She married in her late 3O's and had two children, Gerrard and Anita. She had me at 41. Long before she was a mother she lived an independent, carefree, creative and compassionate life as a Flamenco dancer who performed for Chief Dan George, an actress in countless plays, a governess for The Mary's in Stoney Creek, and as a caregiver in Fondling Homes.When the Catholic Children's Aid Society was established in Toronto Madeleine became a foster parent who had 27 infants during that span. The child that pulled at her heartstrings was Georgie who resided with us for two years. He had a peaches and cream complexion, bright red hair and a luminous smile. He was adopted and went on to have a sister in the States. Loosing a central piece of the family fabric was a difficult transition time for my mother. She loved to cook, sew, (mainly smocking), and knit until her eyesight dimmed and arthritis invaded her delicate but nimble hands. Osteoporosis was another factor. Challenges were overcome in other ways. Her imagination was always active and unsuppressible. In an instant she could turn two Notre Dame chocolate bars into a sailboat as an impromptu birthday party gift. She was a saver. She had the downpayment to the house, not my father. My mom was a gregarious and outgoing person and as a result had numerous friends especially at Holy Name Church or the CWL at Holy Cross. She was the Lester B. Pearson of the street, being bilingual she acted as a arbitrator during some heated neighbour disputes. Though she never spoke Italian in the home, my mom was shockingly fluent when she had to be. People respected her benevolent and gentle ways. Her faith in God guided and navigated her choices in life. Gardening was another passion of hers and she had one of the most extensive rose gardens in my youth. My mom made the most amazing meals with the fresh vegetables. As you can see from the pictires she loved her grandchildren to pieces. This unbridled love was returned ten fold. She laughed at their antics and romped in our playroom. Ryan, Lindsay and Brandon did crafts, plays and personal piano recitals for her. She ate dubious concoctions and said they were delicious in the Little Tykes kitchen. She went to a parade of school functions, hockey tournaments, and figure skating practices. When the red Habs team drafted her at our son's birthday party she revealed herself. Nanny right wing, played hockey outside at Frankland School. She wasn't fast but she knew how to position herself, yes even get teammates to screen the goalie and she victoriously shot the puck, sometimes top shelf, in the net. Yes trickery but all in fun. In ping pong this woman of small stature was a triple threat. My mom was agile, sharp, competitive and hit the ball at lightening speed to win. She was a woman on a mission, to take you down. While she had partial vision she liked to watch The Romano's, of course, Dancing with the Stars, and American Idol in our rec room. If you think Simon Cowell was harsh, then you did not want to hear my mother's candour. She made me laugh out loud. In our Gazebo she liked listening to classical music. Pavarotti was her favourite followed by The Three Tenors, Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin. Yes partial to the Italians. When she stayed with us, (The Barber's), we'd dance to Jazz FM at 7:30 in the morning in our living room. This wasn't planned but a spontaneous release waiting for the Woodgreen bus to take her to her Senior Day Program at Jones and Danforth. I can't think of a better morning ritual. To the cats we were an oddity, but cheap entertainment nonetheless. When Brad and I took her to get her pacemaker, she said “ I am not afraid of dying I am afraid of being alone.” She would show off and attempt to fly up the stairs a week later. She never had to prove anything to me and I had to ask her to spread out her energy meagerly. At a natural point she started to need more services. She was a tough cookie. We all can agree with that! She wasn't a big traveller. (Bailey you had a soulmate.) Her life was in her small community. Once you catapulted my mother out of her comfort zone, she enjoyed excursions immensely before Alzheimer's cloaked its veil on her short term memory. She was a supportive and loyal person, complaining or gossiping was foreign to her. She had friends for life like Glady, Stephanie, Agnes, Father Andrew and many at Holy Name. When I remodelled her big master bedroom she showed it off to her friends. She was a bit of a pack rat though, but we went over every item meticulously because her items meant a lot to her. Raised in the Depression she was a sentimental woman and each item had a unique story and was part of a remarkable timeline. I am sad that my mom is gone, but I am happy to know that she is with the creator and perhaps Jean Vanier. I know that she is here in spirit. A mother and daughter's love can't be extinguished by any form of distance, control, manipulation, or deception. It has an energy charge of its own. Almost telepathic in nature. A simple caress can speak volumes, a gesture can be simple not grand, the pulse of two clasped hands can go on to infinity. Motherhood is also a shared exclusive club. A mother is not a person to lean on but a person who makes leaning unnecessary. God has taken her to start another journey, free of pain and a tired petite frame. My mom is on a purer journey, where she can vividly see the truth she sadly missed on Earth, basking in the warm light, surrounded by real friends and dear family, the way the circle began. Ciao Bella! Your grateful daughter- Anita............Grazie per l'attesa.
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