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|
She would tell me stories
about my Mother
when her brother's fiance
lived in the Bronx
and the Oliverio family
lived in Harlem.
She would tell
the exact same story
four times.
Each time
I loved the story
more than I did before.
***
I arrived in New York
on July 18 and four days later
I was told my Aunt Esther
died on July 18
in Pennsylvania.
None of the ten messages
I left on her phone
in Massapequa
were ever given
to her.
She spent the last year of her life
with her only daughter
that I still love.
***
But if all the phone conversations
Aunt and nephew had since 1971 –the year my parents died–
were laid end-to-end,
then the world would be
smothered with our words.
Thank you, Aunt Esther,
for being my substitute mother
when that is what I needed.
Thank you for putting
a roof over my head
for all those visits
to Long Island.
Thank you for putting
all that extravagant food
on my plate during
those dozen visits.
(Especially the Thanksgiving
where Father Frank and me
played chess and drank
scotch excessively.)
***
"THEY" who welcomed you
were your parents +
seven brothers/sisters
and, of course,
my Mother... |
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Footnotes
THEY also included my Uncle John (her husband)
and Aunt Betty (my Mother's sister.)
THEY are also known as the Oliverio 2.0 family
because each one has graduated from
his/her mortal coil.
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