Dear Aunt Celia...
The letters were so important to me...the Dear Aunt Celia Letters...
It began with the stories...stories that were told to us by our parents and sometimes by our Aunt...Stories like Guinca Geile, and how Grandpa and Grandma met... It started in Brooklyn - 81 Sackman Street - the house that was the pride of my Grandparents, Frank & Concetta Pasqualino. Concetta was betrothed to Frank while she was still in Naples, Italy. She was sent to New York to meet him at 16. Frank was waiting for her. In Church. They met in Church--Our Lady of Loretto, two blocks from Sackman Street. They said very little to each other only knowing this is who they should marry. And they did...and from these two people came forth six children, and 27 grandchildren. The fifth child they named Celia after Grandma Concetta's sister. and so it began...
As far back as I could remember there was the OLD Aunt Celia (Grandma's sister) and the NEW or regular Aunt Celia. And these are my memories of my regular Aunt Celia...
We lived downstairs at 81 Sackman St. my mother, my father, my older sister Angela and my younger sister Suzanne...and me Connie, real name Concetta after my Grandmother. There was Aunt Celia and Uncle Joe upstairs...symbolism of me looking up to them...upstairs.
My sister Angela was the first baby at 81 Sackman St. in a very very long time. Aunt Celia was honored to be her Godmother. She stood proud with Uncle Joe holding Angela in white at the christening. Angela was their little doll. Eleven months after Angela was born I came along into the arms of my Aunt. Angela and I filled their childless void for awhile until their first born, Stephen, came into their lives. I remember going upstairs with Angela to talk to Aunt Celia, to eat with Aunt Celia, to follow Aunt Celia around her apartment as she cleaned, to bake with Aunt Celia, to go shopping with Aunt Celia...to love Aunt Celia.
Aunt Celia moved to Huntington, Long Island--19 Corlett Place--and my family, with Grandma, moved to 135-17 96th Place Ozone Park...I was 10....the letters started.
"Dear Aunt Celia, How are you? I am fine..." that is how they always began. My mother wrote to her sister and I would insert my letter in the same envelope for the same 3 cent stamp at the time. In with my mother's Dear Celia letter, would always be an attachment...Dear Aunt Celia, from me and sometimes Angela.
Dear Aunt Celia...the letters were a great part of my growth. They allowed me to express myself, to be free and honest with private words to my Aunt Celia. The letters allowed me to complain about my family who was not listening to me...My letters to Aunt Celia were heard by Aunt Celia...she read my words. I remember the visits and the summer sleep-overs in Huntington...and as fate would have it, today it is where I live...there are no coincidences in life. It adds to my memory as I pass the soldier camp on Main Street and St. Hugh's Church, and New York Avenue.
My teenage years were years of pain, trials and tribulations and Aunt Celia was going through her own. The ear aches worsened, the surgeries, the untimely death of her husband, Uncle Joe. Aunt Celia raised four children and simply did the very best she could. She always had room in her heart for other children...she held hands with God all the way. Her faith grew stronger--her love for people, her compassion--unconditional giving of herself. I often wish I had just 5 drops of Aunt Celia's blood going through my veins.
I remember my cigarettes as a teenager...I smoked openly only in the presence of Aunt Celia. It was OK with her , and we would talk and her talk of her faith led me to once ask a question: I remember asking my Aunt Celia, "How do you know there is life after death?"
"The Bible tells us so," she answered, and she said, "We live forever as youth," and I remembered that...how beautiful my Aunt Celia was in her youth...and now, she does live forever like she once assured me.
The circle has come to a close...the 6 children that were born to Concetta and Frank are together again--my Mother was the one to take care of her siblings; she felt that obligation being the oldest, and she still wrote to her sister. Until a month before my mother passed over, she wrote Dear Celia...and Celia knew the letters were still coming.
After one year and 12 days, Margaret helped her sister cross over and relieved her from her earthly suffering...the circle is closed, the end of a generation. Now we become their generation and we are them.
My mother once said something to me...I was hanging up the phone after speaking with her and before doing so, I told her I loved her. My Mom's reply was "I love you too--from the heart Connie, from the heart."And when Mom was ill, and I would try to help her, she would point to her heart in her weakened state and whisper, "What one does for someone should always be done from the heart...."
Dear Aunt Celia, from my heart...I loved you, I still love you and you will always be in my heart.
And I sign the final letter,
Connie
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