On February 1st, my maternal grandmother Anna Marconi passed away at the age of 98.
In recent weeks, she had fallen on two occasions requiring hospitalization on both occasions. Although it was very likely she would need to transfer from her retirement home to a long term care facility, her condition was not deemed to be imperiled. But at that age and in unfamiliar surroundings, the stability of one's health is not predictable. Sadly, her condition deteriorated very suddenly.
Naturally, I wanted to travel up to Ottawa to attend her funeral. Unfortunately, my ongoing work situation (or lack thereof) is now such that I must leave my apartment of 10 years. Needless to say there are pressing matters which required me to remain here in Boston. Fortunately, my family is understanding about these circumstances.
Of course, I had been looking forward to the possibility of grandma reaching her 100th birthday in August 2019. Although cenetarians are is less of a rarity now reaching that mark is nevertheless a remarkable achievement which deserves a joyous celebration. Alas, this will not come to pass.
With that said, I think if you told most people they would live to the age of 98 they would be reasonably satisfied. Born Anna Alampi she grew up in Reggio in the Calabrian region of Italy, she emigrated to Canada in her early teens settling in Coleman, Alberta, a coal mining community in the Crowsnest Pass. She would not return to her native land for 70 years until my parents took her back there on vacation in 2002.
On September 1, 1939, she married Jack Marconi. Yes, my grandparents were married the same day Hitler invaded Poland. Needless to say their union easily outlasted the Third Reich. By the time my grandmother married my grandfather, he had been working in the mines nearly a decade earlier at the age of 15. They would become parents of two children. First came my Uncle John who still lives outside Ottawa. Then came my mother Arlene three and a half years later. Eight grandchildren (including myself) plus numerous great grandchildren and great, great grandchildren would follow. My grandparents were married 60 years until granddad died in April 2000, shortly after I moved to Boston.
When I was growing up in Thunder Bay, we usually saw my grandparents once a year during the summer. I saw them more frequently in 1978-1979 when my Dad took his sabbatical to Victoria, British Columbia. We stayed in Coleman en route to Victoria and on the way back with them visiting us in B.C. I had more extensive contact with my grandparents when they took care of us (save for my older brother Ezra who was in New York City) during the summer of 1983 when my parents went to Europe. While my grandfather was sweet and prone to spoiling his grandchildren, my grandmother was far more strict, less likely to offer praise and was blunt. Although she had mellowed somewhat when she and my grandfather moved to Ottawa in 1995, she still had her moments. I can recall during one visit in 2009 she told me, "Aaron, you're fat!!!" Needless to say, this didn't fill me with confidence. But having looked at a picture taken of me with her from that visit which was shown during her funeral, I have to admit she was right. I just wish she had a chance to see me 30 pounds lighter.
But my grandmother had a very strong artistic side. She spent many years making pottery, jewels and painting. On her 95th birthday, I made a point of giving her a large paint brush as her tribute to her artistry.
In some ways I wish I had known her better. While I have seen many pictures of her in her youth, I saw a picture of her on a horse. I don't ever remember seeing that picture. If I had then I surely would have asked her about it. It certainly would have given me a greater understanding of how she adapted to life in Canada. But adapt she did. R.I.P.
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