I'll miss hearing the bositerous "HOW ARE YOU?" that I was greeted with every time I called.....she was always wondering "how are the babies?"  And every time she held my kids, I could see how much she loved them.  

Her birthday cards would arrive like clockwork, her pasta and sauce were always cooked perfectly, and the Thursday afternoons I spent with her as a kid are some of my best memories.  I remember going there every week with my siblings, Jill and Nick, and cousins, Alicia and Mikey.  She would take the 5 of us out for the day.  I remember trips to Warren beach to collect perriwinkles (which she would cook up and let us eat); outings at Slater's Park Zoo, matinee shows at the Bristol theater with popcorn and sodas stuffed in her purse.  I remember cramming into the back seat of her car, with one seatbelt strapped over two of us.  I even remember her driving out of her way to take us to the Getty station where the attendant would do magic tricks for us while she pumped gas.

Every Sunday we had dinner at Mama Rosie and Poppa's.  I remember being excited to see my entire family and knowing that after eating her famous macarroni and sauce, that we would be treated to whatever dessert she made that week (and that the portion would always be hanging over the edge of the plate).  It's funny the things you remember about a person when they are gone - I think about her clown collection that she had, and how she would always ask me which one I wanted; the old phone she had in the kitchen that she used to let us play with; and her "not so secret" stash of candy that she kept in the drawer next to the stove.  

I see a lot of her in me - she "told it like it was" and was unapologetic for her opinions. I remember going over as a young teenager with dark red lipstick and hearing about how it wasn't flattering and I should take it off.  At the time, I was annoyed, but looking back at pictures, she was right.  She didn't hold back with anything - especially her love.  She did everything for others - but when you tried to do something for her it was "too much," no matter how small the gesture.  I wish that I could thank her for all the great memories she gave me...

If Roses grow in heaven, Lord

Please pick a bunch for me.  

Place them in my Grandmother's arms 

And tell her, they're from me

Tell her I love her and miss her

And when she turns to smile

Place a kiss upon her cheek 

And hold her for awhile.  

Rest peacefully Mama Rosie.

Love, 
Vanessa