Thanks for the Gift of Life!!

Creations of the heart are blooming like flowers in the field.

The wonders of nature are entwined everywhere.

My spirit overflows. Footprints of the piper are sealed

In the pristine dunes while the echo of the wind

Unfolds whispering melodies.

Dreamland begins to roam freely...

Hear me coming as I go.

I am the wind, the trip into the mist, the sea...

Hear the echo of voices, the heartbeats of waves crushing

On the sand, as I leave my footprints on the land.

Hear the roaring thunder, for my crying is just a reminder.

Please, let the world be and set them all free!!



Monday, September 7, 2015



MEMORY LANE. (PART 3) Life repeats itself in the course of history in the form of similar patterns with a chain of actions sustained by cause and effect results. As a freelance writer, poet, blogger, lyricist, artist, I would like to write and publish my life stories in brief -in order to explain and clarify some events that happened in my family history. In my previous post I wrote...
The future would be ahead of me, and I would be the one to orquestrate and build a stairway to Heaven, not only for me, but also for my generations to come ahead. As soon as I stepped on American soil, my life would never be the same again. I fell in love with the American people and way of life! Well, I planted my seeds, my flowers, my poems and songs, my thoughts, my true love into the land of freedom, the home of the braves.
I really wanted to be a part of the American hearts.
The rest is history in my life as an American Senior Citizen lady.
My advice is to take good care of your children, because they will become adults in no time. Teach them good things, good manners, to love and respect others, also respect conservation, mother nature, animals and wildlife. We are all mortal beings, feeble passengers of time. So, I wish to make a real difference between life and death, and serve the Lord for a good purpose in my passing life in the world before I DIE...
My Life Stories -as I was told, and as far as I remember. My maternal grandparents, the parents of my mother, were European Immigrants. They got married and had 4 children, my mom was their youngest baby. My grandmother was born in 1885 in Genova, Northern Italy, and her parents were cousins. They had 14 children, and my grandmom was their eldest child. My maternal grandfather, the father of my mother, was born in Switzerland in 1878 in the City of Vevey, Canton of Vaud. He spoke French and Italian as well. His father was Italian from Genova. His mother was German- Swiss. He grew up in Switzerland as a kid. My maternal grandfather was an artist painter, and studied Art in the School of Brera in Milan, Italy. He died in 1927 due to hepatocirrhosis in his liver. He used oil painting to paint his artwork. After many years working without a mask, he must have inhaled the deadly odor which damaged his liver to a deadly point. My mom was only a 2-year-old baby. Her mom, my maternal grandmother, felt emotionally devastated, and had to work hard back in those days, in the early years of the 20's century, in which women were not seeing with good eyes by people in general if ladies were not at home.
Sadly, my grandmother gave her 2-year-old baby -my mom, to her parents, my mother's grandparents. They provided all they had for my mother's upbringing. Perhaps, it wasn't enough, it wasn't the ideal situation, because my mom wanted and needed her own mom. 
My mother's maternal grandparents had 14 children, so my mom -as a child- had many aunts and uncles who played and took good care of her. At the age of 18, my mother got a job in a big store downtown, and went to visit her mom, and asked her if she could live with her. My grandmother welcomed her young daughter, who felt so happy going back to her mother's loving arms again. Unfortunately, the fact that my mom was raised by her grandparents -as a little child- not by her mom, left chronic emotional disorders, depression, severe traces in my mom's mind and heart. Now, I recall something important -when I was a child- to have seen my mom crying very often, especially after her dearest mom died, and my dad left our home for another woman. My mom felt so very depressed. I was about 9 or 10 years old back then. I remember I had asked her why she had been crying, then my mom decided to share her big secret with me. My mom had felt like an abandoned orphan most of her life, especially while living with her maternal grandparents. They only sent her to study up to Elementary School, and then learn how to become a dress-maker, and also learn embroidery techniques. After graduation in that sort of trade, she had to work for her grandparents sewing dresses and embroidery fabrics as a young teen. They did not allow her to see males, and never get married.
My dear mom kept on crying -as she was telling me her story, and I gave her a big hug to soothe her emotional breakdowns. I would comfort my mom as long as I lived with her. Then, I understood my mom's emotions and behaviour more clearly, for she had been missing her own mom. 
My mom was definetely my best friend forever! When my parents got married, they bought an apartment, and my mom took her mom with them. So, the three of them lived together, my mom, my dad and my maternal grandmom. Then, when I was born, there were four of us, my parents, my granny and me -as a baby. My granny helped my mom with my upbringing, for she had to work in the store to help pay for the mortgage and the incoming bills. Life was so hard back then. I adored my grandmom, she was the sweetest lady I had ever met in my life. She adored me too. Well, I share a pic of my grandmother and me -as a little kid for you all. Have a blessed weekend, dear family and friends!! God may bless you all.



Chatty Crone said...

Seems your family had some sadness there - but a lot of love too.

Denise said...

I love your memories.

Cathy said...

I'm so sorry about your Mom's sad life. It is sad you as a child had to comfort her so much.I know it must have been very disturbing to see your Mother crying. The joy of the Lord is our strength. Thank God we have Him.