Mangia Nonna

So the insomnia hit again. I try to tire myself out. I stayed up till 1 AM and I was wide awake at 3:30 AM. I woke up starving. Like wanted a full meal kind of hungry.

However I’m too weak and keep kind bars on my nightstand. I have one of those instead. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t. Now I feel as if I’m having an existential crisis if I don’t get up and do something. I’m awake and anxious.

But instead of getting up I start researching about meningiomas. I use dictation on my iPad because it’s easier. Mangia Nonna. Not meningiomas.

Eat Grandmom?

Mangia means eat in Italian. Nonna means Grandmother in Italian.

A sign. This is my Mommom D. My paternal Grandmother is reaching out. I am still researching but I feel as if we are doing it together. I feel comfort.

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I realize now there are three types of meningiomas instead of the two that I heard about. As I reflect I’m happy I have type two and not type three. Type three is even worse than type 2. Survivors guilt creeps back but less than 3 percent of people with meningioma have type 3.

Meningiomas are not cancerous, they’re benign. However they can become cancerous. I see that meningioma awareness ribbon is purple and silver. I really need to find out if there’s a support group with people that are dealing with meningiomas. I don’t find one.

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Meningioma awareness month and brain tumor awareness month is in May. I know I’ll make it to May.

The type of meningioma I had was a sphenoid wing mengiomas. Per Mount Sinai these mengiomas can cause visual problems and facial numbness in severe cases they can cause blindness.

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I start freaking out because I still cannot feel the right side of my face and my vision isn’t one hundred percent still. I read this before. So I calm myself and get off the web. However, I know it takes time as all of my facial tissues were cut and the nerve endings need to form again. My eyes are bothering me anyway.

I find comfort seeing the colors of meningioma. It’s a sign. Scranton’s colors are gray and purple. Now my mania creeps in. I’m trying to find a research group that in the future I can donate to regarding meningioma research.

My mom moved up to the room next to me after her surgery. She can barely sleep and hears me up now.

I take a deep breath. I am still under my weighted blanket. I start talking aloud to Mommom D. I say let’s go find some photos of you. It will make me feel better.

She is the one grandparent I don’t remember much of. She died when I was six and was buried the day before my seventh birthday. She died young of breast cancer that spread.

I only have three positive memories of my Mommom D.

Now I’m hysterically crying because I wish I remembered her. My other Gram said I would always be in her lap as a child. She said that Mom Mom D always cherished me.

Memory one is going to her house for spaghetti Sunday.

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Memory two is going on trips to Sea Isle city with her and my family. My cousins, Lee and I always had a blast.

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Memory three is her getting sick and me sitting with her.

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Now I’m standing in the living room staring at her Curio cabinet I got when she died. I still have the final gift she gave me in that curio with all of her items.

The final gift she gave me is a blue aquamarine teddy bear and I got a matching necklace with my birthstone.

I now go over to my jewelry stand and grab her heart necklace that she always wore that I have.

I go back to my room to look at her bedroom furniture I have.

I open up one of the drawers and I think to myself how cool is it that she used to do this all the time also and her energy is in my room.

This only takes about five minutes and I go downstairs to start looking at the photos.

My craziness keeps me up that I want to go through every single photo in my home. I finished this at 11:40 PM with the help of my parents. Hours of photos.

I now talk to my iPad to give you the story of Margaret Fumo DiValerio.

You know it, Mom Mom D is 100% Italian. Her parents both immigrated from Italy. Her dad’s family is from Coliano, Italy. She was born on November 28, 1933. She passed away on March 21, 2002.

She grew up in West Philadelphia and went to West Catholic girls high school. Whenever I want to think about my grandma and I always think of her being like my great aunt Pat Panichelli who I love dearly. Aunt Pat is her older sister. Aunt Pat loves white merlot.

I asked my mom what do you remember most about my Mommom D. She said the first time I met your Mom Mom D did not realize how long my hair was.

My mom’s hair was to hair was to her butt I kid you not.

My Mom continues and says yeah when I stood up she said holy crap I didn’t realize how long your hair was. She loved her family that was for sure. She loved her barbecues and the beach. She always wanted to be with her friends or her family.”

I ask Dad what his favorite memory of his mother was.

He said, “My mom always let me be me as long as I was doing what was right. She never interfered with anything. She was easy-going and easy to get along with. She loved to travel, go to the beach and the pool.”

Now I ask, how are Mommom D and I alike? I am a strong believer in strong women raising even stronger women. I am me and I will always carry a part of Margaret DiValerio. She’s in my DNA. Her blood is intertwined in mine. Without her I would not be here.

My Dad reflects. He finally says, “man you guys are alike. You are easy-going too. You are easy to get along with. You like to travel, go to the beach and go to the pool. You like to be around family. You like to be around friends. She also liked going to the mountains with her friends. She was always there for her friends in times of need”.

I had my dad say all of this into the iPad. He’s cleaning the bathroom currently. Bless him.

He then runs back into the room and says, “wait I forgot the biggest thing. She loved to bake and cook. Just like you.”

No wonder why I only remember spaghetti Sunday and the beach with my Mommom D. I know she’s proud of me. I can’t wait to go to the cemetery and see her. We are more alike than I thought and I am happy.

She was taken far too soon and I can’t wait until I’m reunited with her one day.

Later rather than sooner.

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Famiglia.

Be Bold.