Late February, 1983 Gloucester, Massachusetts
My Godmother Madeline died a few days after her 53rd birthday. The funeral was at Saint Ann’s. We had Coffee and Donuts at my mom and dad’s house afterwards. There was some controversy about whether or not my Uncle Joe would be welcome in our house after the funeral. Some of Madeline’s brothers and my cousin Bobby wanted to beat him up. My dad spoke up and said this was not the time or place for anyone to vent their anger and out of respect for Madeline they needed to cool out. Uncle Joe opted to go home immediately from the cemetery anyway, saying he wasn’t feeling well. I could relate. I wanted to be alone but felt I needed to be there. I went upstairs to the room that once was mine, figuring I’d clear my thoughts. My very eccentric old Uncle Don showed up with his very homely fiancee Lorraine. They were scheduled to marry in April, and now one more guest was not going to be there. They came upstairs and decided to “try out the mattress”. I shook my head. Maybe it was time to drive back to my apartment. I went downstairs, had a coffee, hugged my Uncle Carlo & Aunt Sadie, and left.
Back at the Lanesville apartment, Donna Marie a.k.a Mariah was home out sick from her soon to be former waitressing job. Little Alicia was playing with her stuffed animals on the kitchen floor. Jeanine came home from her nursing shift in a foul mood. She had an argument with Donna Marie the night before, and they had not reconciled. I’m not sure if it came out in their quarrel but Jeanine had learned about Donna Marie’s brief fling with her ex husband Joe, which with some simple math she had deducted took place the same week that Donna Marie not yet a.k.a. Mariah had called to drive up from Foxboro because she didn’t want to be alone. Jeanine asked me if I wasn’t certain Donna Marie wasn’t carrying my kid. “It would have been born already” I said, counting months backwards in my head. “That baby is due next Month, and my money is it will look like Errol”. As I said this, I got this feeling in my gut. I was not going to see this baby. Within a few days that would prove true.
Thank you for sharing this story. March in our home is a month where terrible events happen like illnesses to family members.
The darkest hour is right before the dawn…
Know I now why March is called March Madness.
Great post! Nice picture!
Nice post! Nice picture!
Traditionally the month of February is considered the most brutal, but you’ve always marched to your own beat…
Here is to the human chaos in its humanity.