Look for Me in Rainbows

Time for me to go now
I won't say goodbye
Look for me in rainbows
Way up in the sky
In the morning sunrise- when
All the world is new
Just look for me and love me
As you know I loved you
Time for me to leave you
I won't say goodbye
Look for me in rainbows
High up in the sky
In the evening sunset
When the world is through
Just look for me and love me
And I'll be close to you
Time for us to part now
We won't say good bye
Look for me in rainbows
Shining in the sky
Every waking moment
And your whole life through
Just look for me and
Love me as you know
I loved you
Just wish me to be near you
And I'll be there for you!!!

I love you, Mema and Pepa, Forever,
Denise

Positively Pop

My granddaddy drives up classy in his Lincoln, Buick or Caddy. Though I love him madly no matter what car seat he had me. While I write this sadly and miss him badly, by poems end I will look back fondly, gladly.
I can still feel the slime my hand got from the line to the crab pot we pulled in tied to the bay's dock.
My excitement as lively as the crabs we've caught. We then whisk them to the garage kitchenette to a different type of pot.
A spoiled prince I sat and watched TV with my feet soles to the ceiling. Pop called me over when he was done cracking and peeling, the shells AND oranges (or flats as I called them). I scurried over reeling to a pile of snow white meat, oh what a feeling!
Rita and Lou's kitchen left me fat and happy by meals end. Many classmates have came and went but he's my true friend.
His house and arms were always open to any or all. The warm embrace of his arms or house spelled comfort wall to wall. Though summer was the prime time, his permanent vacation home was available winter to fall. He was five foot and some change but to me he was ten feet tall. No matter how somber you walked in with him you had a ball. (Isn't this fun?!?!) From formal to casual celebrations to even now, his final call.
Like clockwork he guides you out of his driveway at your departure. Waving you on and steering you clear like an airman directing a pilot in a bomber. Until you're clear for takeoff and drive into the seaside yonder. He won't stop waving until you're over the bridge of West Point Island harbor.
True blue Lou has volumes of stories he's been through. Far too many to fit into a haiku. I could spew a slew or just a few and it still will be more than most lifetimes will ever do.
For his bride she can confide that he's the ultimate teammate and wingman. He was her king man. Relationships these days are just a fling man. Their bond was titanium others weak as a tin can.
He appeased her every need, every deed, every warning she'd give he would heed. As long as the words were uttered from Rita's mouth, if she said continue he would proceed. He was always up to speed. They were thick as thieves. Loyalty was their creed.
He raised three dignified and successful kids. As well as co-raised 9 others. That's the magic he did. (Eat your heart out Houdini)
Between the Military, the fire department, the church, Knights of Columbus and neighbors he cared about and kept safe. He served his country, the community, the block, but above all, his faith.
It's no coincidence I'd say that the lord took him away on the Lord 's Day after almost a century of dues paid. Nor coincidence that he passed the same as his mother's age. I can only hope and pray to have been half the man he was come my final day and God has his final say. The chips have fallen leave them where they lay. Like my grandfather I will put on a grand display and my family will not be left in dismay.
I try not to cry yet the tears of joy and sorrow will fly. Because a life and a love like his and ours you cannot buy. This is a code and bond you cannot crack no matter how much you pry. If I survive to his age or one hundred and five I want to meet him and greet him at the thirteen Dickman Drive in the sky.

Love always, your grandson,
Mark

My grandfather was an incredible man. He served his country. He was an exceptional salesman at a big corporation but he was a kind, well respected, honest businessman who knew everyone by name and did his job with a smile. He retired to the Jersey Shore with my Grandmother where they made a community, making a lot of friends and adding to their lifetime of memories. He was a true gentleman and loved my Grandmother beyond words. He always referred to her as My Bride' and the last words he spoke were to say I Love You' to her. They don't make them like that anymore. He was the best man I've ever known. He will be greatly missed but forever loved and remembered. 

Love,
Cheryl

Grandpa's Smile

What can be said? All we need to do is look at the photographs of Grandpa, any of them. The smile says it all. I find myself smiling as well. What an incredible life, what an incredible man. I love you forever grandpa, take care of Granny.

Love,
Steve

For those that don't know already, my Grandfather Pop passed in his sleep last night. He waited until everyone was gone because..that's just him.
He and my Grandmother Granny were married for over 70 years. The entire time, Pop always called Granny My Bride. The met at a time of war. Granny is German and Pop is Italian. Pop's Mother insisted that Granny learn how to cook Italian food for him before they got married, and so she did. She makes the greatest Italian meals I have ever known. Their's is a love story that no movie could accurately depict, no novel could find the words to describe. He is the most kind, the most loving and dearest man that I ever met. If I could be half the man he was, I would consider that a great achievement. Heaven just got one of the greatest angels it could ask for.as I'm sure he walked through those gates and said to St. Peter: Isn't this fun?
I love you, Pop. Rest in eternal peace.

Love,
Anthony

Grandma and Grandpa

Grandma and Grandpa: when those words are spoken my mind goes back in time,
Back to when they lived down the shore, these memories of mine.
The smell of salty ocean air, the sound of seagull's song,
The picture so clear in my mind, times when there was no wrong.
I see my grandpa waving, waving proudly like his flag,
I hear my grandma laughing as all us kids played tag.
The smell of homemade foods fill my nose with delight,
For grandma always held a feast even if it took all night.
The family gathered all around the table of their cozy home,
Nothing coming between us all, no TV, computer or phone.
I can still see grandpa smiling; I see the glimmer in grandma's eyes,
The magical feeling of being with them, my how quick time flies.
I think back to the times outside holding grandpas hand,
Back to when he took me crabbing on the dock feet full of sand.
I think about my grandma waiting for us by the front screen door,
Come inside to end the day I curl up on the floor.
Ice cream sundaes, wooden spoons, frozen milky ways,
These memories I cherish will be passed down someday.
The sun is setting by the bay as our bodies start to lose power,
Look out the window down the block at the Lavallette water tower.
I hold onto these memories, I keep them close at heart,
I hold them even closer now that we are apart.
I cannot be at sadness though; they would not want me to cry,
For grandma and grandpa are at peace reunited,
No pain as they dance together on the clouds in the sky.

Love,
Mary

My Bubula

As her favorite crooner Dean Martin said You're nobody till somebody loves you. If that's the case then I'm an extremely special somebody. Granny made me feel like a prince, and treated me as such. Speaking of treated She did just that. She loved treating us to treats of all kinds and flavors. She was the epitome of cooking with love The hours she had spent in the kitchen alone are those that could have made Julia Child jealous and retire. A specific list and menu for every child and every child's child. It's baffling and enough to make one dizzy, but she had it down to a sweet science. She comes from German/Irish descent. (Which she'd never let us forget when we spoke of our Italian pride and culture) Her almost Jerry Lewis-like inflection and audibility rang through the halls of her jersey shore home. DON'T FOGET THE GERMAN IRISH! Though she comes from that ethnicity, she mastered the Italian culinary arts for her love of loves Lou. (Possible in part because his mother refused her blessing on matrimony until she did so) At any rate, she overachieved this in the most satiating and mouthwatering of ways. My non-biased opinion is that her food not only made Emeril Lagasse and Mario Batali's pale in comparison, but rumor has it that she had her mother in law, the woman who demanded she learn to cook this cuisine for her son was sent reeling in confusion for my grandmothers food having surpassed hers. Student had in fact become teacher. Perhaps dean of admissions. I could go on at tantalizing length about the food quite literally. Her spread of snacks strategically laid out upon EVERY arrival would be buffet status in volume, quality and presentation. But I digress as I digest. Rita was no St. Rita, but she was a saint to me. She protected me. She made me feel safe and comfortable at all times and costs. She was my guardian angel long before she entered the gates of heaven. But it wasn't limited to family. She tirelessly catered to and consoled the communities as well. From soup kitchens, to numerous groups within the church diocese, to the numerous women's groups that backed my grandfather's organizations such as the fire department and Knights of Columbus. She was obviously put on this Earth to nourish and nurture. If not then she indeed manifested her own destiny. A model mother, daughter, grandmother, bride, citizen and human being for that matter. Sure she would sneak a cigarette in the laundry room but who doesn't have their bad habits?! DAMMIT ISN'T THIS FUN?! WHOOPIE LETS HAVE A PARTY!!! Some of her signature exclamations proving she was full of vigor and frivolity. Another couple upon your departure to protect you when not in her presence were: WATCH OUT FOR THE KOOKS ON THE ROAD! DON'T LOOK EM IN THE EYE! She always had our best interests and safety at the forefront of her agenda. Finally there was TOOT-A-LOO WHOO-TEE-WOO What that meant I hadn't the foggiest, but it was her goodbye followed by a wave goodbye until you drove out of complete sight. It would make your arm tired to witness it. If you were her guest, she'd be a better host than any Hilton, Marriott or Waldorf Astoria for that matter. From the long winded, aforementioned food to oh so cozy linens and sleeping arrangements. She checked on us several times through the night and would cover us back up had the sheets worked their way off of us whether intentionally or not. It seemed she arose moments after she put her head to the pillow. She would rise before the sun. Still in slumber you'd smell coffee she brewed for her and Lou. Next came the waft of breakfast. Eat your heart out Wheaties because THIS was a breakfast of champions. Aaaaaaand we're back to THE FOOD!!! She repeated this salivating, savory and sweet synopsis for a span of the better half of a century.  Day after week after month and so on. She was a piece of work.ARTWORK!!! A MASTERPIECE I'D SAY!!! You could not debate with her, nor change her mind, nor course to follow, or your energy and effort would surely be in vain. She stood her ground to entertaining and comical proportions no matter how frustrating it got. Her cackle of a laugh was impeccable, uncanny and infectious. Her place at the table was the head believe it or not. My grandfather and I flanked her. Him to pour her wine and hand her the toothpicks (which she also mastered the art of by the way). Me to steal the cucumbers from her salad which she welcomed time and time again for I thought it was a game and our thing and for her to nudge when she deemed fit. She was a Jersey Shore queen, with her throne being the motorized recliner in the living room, and her chariot being a Lincoln, complete with chauffeur (Pop). All well-deserved and rightfully so. She has paid her dues to the family, to society, to life. Legitimately one of a kind. You couldn't emulate nor duplicate if you tried with all of you might. I was her bubala. And she's my bubala, my granny, my caregiver, my guardian angel.

Love always, your Bubala,
Mark

My Grandmother was one of a kind. She was loud, caring, stubborn, welcoming and made a lasting impression with her cooking. As kids we would go down the shore to visit my Grandparents and you'd think we had the red carpet rolled out for us. She would have dips and snacks waiting upon our arrival and once we had chatted and caught up on everything that was going on and eaten most of the snacks, it would get cleared away and we'd sit at a long table to enjoy an enormous feast of her delicious Italian cooking. I remember watching her during our stays and she would work tirelessly to make the whole stay enjoyable for us. I think I have a bit of her in me because I love to host family gatherings at my house, I always have way too much food and I want people to feel comfortable and enjoy themselves when they're here.

My Grandmother also listened to our stories, watched us do gymnastics in the living room to stall our bedtimes, checked on us repeatedly throughout the night to make sure our full bodies were under the covers and when we'd wake up at the crack of dawn, she'd already be up getting everything ready for us for the next day.

I loved to listen to her stories about when she and my Grandfather were younger and a little rebellious. They sounded like they were very happy and carefree and built an amazing life together and her children, Grandchildren and great-grandchildren are their legacy and will strive to keep that happy, loving, serving-others, fun-loving way of being going to honor them and to live our lives to the fullest the way they did.

Love you Grandma,
Cheryl

Treasure Huntin With Granny

I have a special memory. It is a memory I will treasure forever. It is one of my earliest memories of Granny. I had her all to myself. Anthony must have been starting school. Maybe Cheryl was an infant or mom hadn't given birth to her yet. Mark and Mary weren't even blips on the radar screen yet. And there we were, just me and Granny. Most of us remember Granny in the kitchen. Yellin at us and cooking up a storm. When I was older watching hockey on her living room floor, I'd call her in to see the hockey players fight..."Granny! They're fighting!" And she'd come watch. But the memory I am thinking of, from way back when I was little, Granny wasn't in the kitchen. We weren't even in the house. We'd gone Treasure Huntin. We were walking along the bay just beyond the bridge for West Point Island. It was overcast and chilly. We walked along the beach looking for treasure. And as we made our way along, I found it, TREASURE! It was a canvas camouflage hat. I was excited, and the cool thing, Granny let me keep it. Naturally, she needed to sterilize it first. (I think she boiled it.) Then she washed it in the laundry, possibly multiple times. I still have that treasure to this day. And I am sure that you know by now, the treasure isn't the hat. It is the memory of a walk along the beach with Granny. Granny and Pop are together again in heaven. And the mountain of treasured memories are piled high in our hearts.

Love,
Steven

We called my Grandmother "Granny". And when I think of her, I think about a loud, German woman, who never took guff from anyone, who voiced her opinion no matter what and did things her own way. But that is not the full story.

Granny was one of the greatest Italian cooks I know. She learned to cook Italian in order to marry my Italian Grandfather, whose Mother insisted she learn in order to do so. She loved him and her family more than anything.

Granny is the definition of a strong woman. And underneath the rough exterior, was a love that was eternal. I see her in her children, her grandchildren and her great grandchildren. She and my Grandfather are together once again. But they both live on in all of us. And in me.

I love you, Boobola. Watch out for the kooks on the way to heaven.

Love,
Anthony

My Mema

My Mema was more than just a grandmother to me.

She was like a second mother.

Some of the best memories I have--are being down the shore with Mema and Pepa.

Our whole family was really close and my fondest memories are being around the dining room table with everyone.

I was blessed with six grandparents---

And of course, Mema was the last woman standing!!

I bet she is up in Heaven bragging to all my grandparents-

That she lasted the longest!!

I am happy that my Mema and Pepa are together forever now-

But I will always miss and love them both dearly!!

Love,
Denise

What a wonderful woman and role model for so many; her love continues forever.

Sending my sympathy to all of you. May God Bless you all during your time of grief.

With the passing of my dear  Godmother Rita M. Torsello   (who was the last of our generation before us ) my sisters and cousins are now the the oldest generation in our family.You are truly missed and now you are reunited in Heaven with your beloved husband Lou,my Godfather.                                           Love,   Ralph

AVIS DE DÉCÈS

Rita M. Torsello

20 août 1923 – 11 mars 2016

Becker Funeral Home

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