Tuesday, May 8, 2012
April 2 2012
The past few days have been, by far, the saddest days of our entire lives. We have been stricken with grief beyond words, our hearts are broken beyond repair and we have cried enough tears to fill St Mary's River. However, I felt compelled to honour our father today with a few words.
My father, my papa Angelo was a good man, a strong man, a gardener, a carpenter, a master of all trades and often a man of few words, yet his storytelling always grasped our attention.
Mio padre, mio papà Angelo era un uomo buono, un uomo forte, un giardiniere, un maestro di tutti i mestieri e spesso un uomo di poche parole, ma la sua narrazione sempre colto la nostra attenzione.
He loved to tell stories of his childhood, growing up with his many brothers and sisters in Italy, of his years in Germany where he worked to send money home to his family, about the first time he met my mother and fell in love with this beautiful young woman as their eyes met at her father's home, how he came to Canada on a boat to Halifax, my mother 4 months pregnant with me. He landed in the Sault and took employment building the very roads we drive on in this city today - Shannon Road, Black Road. The contractor was so impressed with his work that he broke a few rules to give him full time employment. He talked of his years in Algoma Steel, of the hard strike in 1969 when he was just building our first new home on Dawson St without work and a young family to support. After he retired in 1993, he loved telling us about his many adventures with Randy as they delivered furniture from home to home. Randy would ask him if he was ok on his end of the heavy couch or table or whatever they were delivering that day and he'd say "I'm ok. You worry about your end." He was so incredibly strong.
And of late, he talked with a sparkle in his eyes and pride in his heart of his grandchildren. Of how he would take my boys to the nearest construction site when they were young to see the "big machines", of his granddaughter Lauren and how he loved to see her eat as she enjoyed my mom's cooking. Often times, my husband and kids had no idea what he was saying as he would switch from English to Calabrese but they still laughed and so enjoyed the story because you could see and feel how happy he was telling it. My boys would come home from visiting my parents and I would say, "So how was your visit?" and the first thing they would say would be "Oh nonno was cracking us up. He was telling us stories. Another classic dinner at the Barones."
I think most of us will remember my father for the craftsman that he was. Angelo could do anything, build anything, fix anything - no question. He has probably built something for each and every one of you in this church today. It gives me solace to know that there are monuments all over the city - homes, garages, sheds, doors, roofs, fences that will stand tall for years and years because they were built with his hands. God gave him a special gift and he used it his entire life to help others. He loved it beyond words. To this day it gives me comfort to smell fresh cut wood or the sound of a hammer or table saw somewhere in the distant. It reminds me of him.
So much of our father lives in us - all 3 of us have his curly hair, his strong jaw line, his love for good food, for family and for walking, for the outdoors, for nature and everything green. We all have our quiet sides when we just need to be alone, we are proud to be Barone's, we are loyal and most of all, we all have his Calabrese hard head. We are who we are because of him and we wouldn't trade it for the world.
I have said for a long time that the measure of a good year is when you know you have learned something new, something you didn't know before. And this past week, I have learned so much about my father. I learned how much he was loved and respected from near and far. Neighbours loved him and were devastated with the news of his passing, cousins called from Italy to say how they enjoyed growing up with him as children. Many commented on how they had just seen him walking around the city as he did every day, with his Italian ball cap and his brisk pace. Our own friends respected him dearly and everyone around us has only had kind words for him. Again that gives us comfort.
We miss our father so very much. His beautiful smile, his strong hands, his deep voice, his curly hair, his pride, his love for us, for his family, his friends, for nature and life itself.
So today, we can only pray that he has found the peace that he was looking for, that God is merciful with him. I'm sure he is up in heaven right now going for a walk with angels (the angels that he was named after- Angelo), talking to everyone along the way, telling stories as he is reunited with his parents, his brother Benny, and his family and friends who have gone before him.
Thank you on behalf of my mother, my sister and brother, our spouses, our children for your outpour of kindness, your support and your comforting words for we all loved my father and you have helped us get through this.
Grazie a nome di mia madre, mia sorella e mio fratello, i nostri figli per il vostro sfogo di gentilezza, il vostro sostegno e le vostre parole di conforto per tutti noi amato mio padre e voi ci hanno aiutato a superare tutto questo.
God bless and may Angelo rest in peace for ever and ever………our husband, papa and nonno, our patriarch, our hero……….
