August 8
Before I went to Spain I was supposed to go to Chicago to go visit Poppie. He hadn't been doing well, so we moved him to a nursing home in March. I hadn't seen him since December. It was his 88th birthday, and he wasn't doing well then either.
I can't remember what the last thing he said to me was, but I'm sure it was something to the effect of "I'm an old man," or "I'm dying... Erica...Diane..." and maybe he even eventually came up with my name. But it didn't matter. I didn't care what he called me.
It was hard those last few years, because we all wanted to enjoy what little time we had left with him, but he never wanted to go anywhere or do anything... even talk. He was happy if he had "The Wheel" and "The Sox" on the TV in front of him. My last really good memory of him was when the White Sox won the world series. I had never heard him so happy before! For the whole week after they won, he would answer the phone, "THE WHITE SOX ARE THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD!!!" hehehe. And Nonnie told me that the best part was that his memory was so bad, he would forget they won, and so when he'd hear it on the TV every five or 10 minutes, he would get to relive the victory each time! How great would that be-- getting to relish in your happiest moment over and over again?

Sometimes I get jealous because my earliest memories of Poppie are when he was in his 70s. My other cousins are older, so they remember him from his better days-- when the hard-working, proud Italian in him made him a genuinely good man. To think that he took his family out of the slums of down-town Chicago's mafia-driven little Italy and into the suburbs is impressive. They left everything they knew and started with nothing. And he did it for his kids... for their future. When he got older he would always brag about how they turned out...
"My daughter graduated high school at 16. My son's an engineer and started his own business. My other daughter married a doctor. And my other son is a vice president of Pitney Bowes," he would boast.
He was so proud of all of them, even though my Auntie Gracie would get a little upset that her claim-to-fame was based on who she married.

I'm so glad I was able to come back the states a little early so that I could be with my family during all of this. Even though I missed the funeral, I got to Chicago in time for the reception that night and the picnic the next day. Poppie died Wednesday night/Thursday morning... officially August 3rd. But I didn't find out until late on the night of the 4th and I was on a plane the next morning. It all happened so fast. It's as if Poppie knew it was a good time to go, because our annual family picnic was scheduled for Sunday the 6th, so everyone was already coming in town. And he gave us all day Thursday and Friday to make the funeral arrangements.

Like I said, I was supposed to go visit him before I went to Spain, but I decided to wait until after, and I have a plane ticket to come to Chicago on August 25th. I prayed he would make it until then, but by mid-July I knew in my heart he wouldn't. It's probably better, though, that my last memories are from when he was still himself. Everyone says that in the end it was like being with a stranger, as he was so dissoriented and ashamed of his childlike state.

The night he died I was in Venice. I bought him and Nonnie souveniers. Cookies for Poppie... because that's all he ever like to eat. (I think I get my sweet-tooth from him.) I talked to my mom and told her what souveniers I got for everyone... even what I got for Nonnie... but something in me kept me from telling her about the cookies I got Poppie. It was as if I knew he was dying, but I didn't want to know. And if I told her about the cookies, she would confirm what I dreaded-- Maybe not even with words,but I would be able to tell just by the sound of her voice in her response.

The other moment that really hit me hard was watching the slide show my cousin Cissy made of Poppie's life. He had four granddaughters. Cissy, Laura, Erica and me. Like I said, I am the baby of the family. Four of the pictures in the slide show were, in this order: Poppie dancing with Ciss at her wedding, Poppie dancing with Laura at her wedding, Poppie dancing with Erica at her wedding, and Poppie dancing with me at Erica's wedding. All of our lives, Poppie has told each of us, "Save me a dance at your wedding." he loved to dance... especially to Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Bing Crosby, etc.... but in the end he would tell me, "Oh I wish I would be there to dance with you at your wedding, Ann." I would always say, "You will, Pop, I'll save you a dance." But even I knew then he wouldn't make it. What killed me during the slideshow, though, was realizing that I was the only granddaughter who wouldn't get to dance with Poppie at my wedding. My husband won't have even known Poppie. But even still, I will save him a dance. One of his favorite songs. And I will dance to "That's Amore" in honor of him.

"That's Amore" is definately one of my strongest memories of Poppie. How he loved to dance with anyone and everyone singing that song... waitresses, girls on my cheerleading squad, flight attendants, me. And whenever I would walk into the room he would start to sing... "Here she comes... Miss America!" He also called me Miss Coppell. My mom, to him, was Mrs. Coppell. I have so many vivid memories of Poppie. It's funny how you don't think you do, until he's gone, and then they all come flooding back. Pizzels-- Solatiare-- Wheel of Fortune-- Da Bears-- The Bear-- painting projects-- my doodling artwork-- lottery tickets-- how's the weather?-- now you're (enter age) now, huh-- How tall are you now? 5'3", 5'4"? -- chili-- cookies-- ah, that woman!-- Son of a biscuit-- where are we going? -- i don't look too bad for (enter age) -- same old jokes -- Brishk -- cheating and the mischevious smile that came with it -- cheapest man I ever knew -- banned from the grocery store -- the wave -- the teeth -- the driving-- "I take him down for physical therapy early because he gets kind of loud and scares the other patients. Did you know your father is a little stubborn?" -- Ice cream -- 3 seconds on the phone -- it's all commericals-- the Christmas tree -- the house in Brookfield -- what the hell's wrong with you -- pasta -- the zoo -- little kids and the slap on the hand -- and best of all, "That's Amore."

I decided that's what we should put on his headstone. The one that Nonnie and he will share when she dies. It sums up everything about both of their lives. Even the times they fought or punished their children, it was all out of love... and that's amore.