Rosina traveled to Italy at the age of 2, grew up in the charming town of Ceccano, married her beloved Cesare D’Annibale at the tender age of 18, and gave birth to two children Pasquale and Fabrizia, whom she loved with a tremendous force which knew no limits. She crossed the ocean once again at the age of 38, and she and her family made America their permanent home, settling in Mt.Vernon, NY.

She became a doting, loving grandmother three times with the births of Larry, Lisa and myself. And it was through the blessed arrival of her three great-grandchildren, Lauren, Antonia and Joseph, that her love, affection and joy grew even larger.

Let me share with you some of the wonderful qualities of this angel, which will keep her in our hearts forever.

She was courageous and strong, leaving behind a life in Italy that no longer served her family, and started a new one, in a foreign land, where she did not speak the language.

She was a generous spirit, graciously giving of her food, recipes, advice, love, and life. Her heart was a deep well, which knew no bottom.

She was direct and forthright – when she witnessed something that was unjust, she had no problem in telling you straight out what she thought. As she used to say, “I say what I see, and what I see is not right.”

She was independent, often stubborn, and liked to do things her own way, which earned her the title of “the general,” by her grandchildren.

She was a hardworking seamstress, and what little money she made, she saved and sacrificed, always putting her family first.

She was a skillful negotiator. Grandma could make a vendor at a farmer’s market sell his vegetables for half price, and in the process, make him feel grateful for having made less money.

She was a master cook—we loved her panetone at Christmas, her cheesecake at Easter, and her savory polenta, pizza, and homemade pasta. We made our sauce with her preserved, Bell-jarred tomatoes, and smeared our toast with her fresh grape jelly, which she skillfully made by hand every autumn.

She was an intuitive and talented designer, able to create outfits without the use of patterns; and knit blankets, sweaters, and baby clothes, all while having a conversation with you, and never once looking down at the yarn and needles.

She loved the TV show JAG, a series about a former Navy fighter pilot. She was a committed fan, even when no else was watching, or had ever heard of the show.

She was a teacher, friend, and wise woman who touched the lives of many. And if you were lucky enough to be hugged by her, engulfed in her strong, protective arms, then for sure you have been blessed forever.

These are just a few of her many, precious qualities. The qualities of an angel. For when we embody these virtues, and live in a loving, creative, generous, and courageous way as she did, we will not only become better for it, but we will be honoring our beloved Rosina, simply by the wonderful example we put forth in our lives. We will miss you grandma, but we know your Spirit lives on in all of us.  Thank you so much sweet angel, for gracing us with your beauty.

Some might say intuition is a gut response,  as in, “I had a feeling in my gut about it.”  A knowing that triggers a physical response in the abdominal region. Others associate intuition as a “woman’s thing, “  having a  sixth sense, or invisible radar, that somehow men don’t possess (which of course is not true!)  Still, others directly connect the word intuition with the word  psychic. Being able to forsee future events,  or an uncanny ability to read someones thoughts.  What about images of crystal balls, tarot cards or runes? Did some of you picture those?

I get a visual of a heart. Not the pulsating red organ, replete with aorta, arteries and veins. But the lover’s heart.  A symbolic representation of that sweet, sacred place within us that houses deep feeling, wisdom and sacred connection. Wordreference.com defines intuition as instinctive knowing, without the use of rational processes. I rather like that definition because it says, you can’t use your head to get at your instinct.

At a recent party, I shared that I had written a children’s picture book called Genevieve’s Gift, which tells the story of a little girl who learns to connect with and follow her intuitive heart, and that I’d developed and teach a children’s workshop called Kids-R-Intuitive, based on the book.  A woman listening in asked, if I considered myself a witch, and If i practiced Wicca. “How else could you teach childlren about intuiton?” she wondered.  I politley said no, that I wasn’t, and told her that even she was very intuitive, she just didn’t exercise that muscle enough to be aware of it.

Here’s the real deal–

Everyone, especially children, is connected to a deep, inner, intuitive place, which is readily accessible if you make the time to do it, and if you make the effort to really pay attention to the signals coming  from your body, emotions, and environment. Being able to connect with that knowing space does not make a person psychic,  witchy, or even “special,”  as in the crystal and indigo children. We all have the capacity to learn how to connect with that inner feeling, if we become still enough to listen, and most importantly, to trust it.

Chester

No matter what room of the house I was in, I heard the jingle of his little bell, a sound that seemed to distinguish itself from all the rest, announcing, “I’m here! Please stop whatever you are doing and spend time with me.” I was like a child on Christmas morning, racing down the steps to not only see what Santa had brought, but if I was lucky enough, to see Santa himself. That little ring was a signal to let me know my day was about to become brighter.

Chester was a social, silvery grey cat that would visit every house on the block. To many, he was thought of as a mayor, visiting homes, campaigning for love and affection. He did have a traditional home —across the street from ours, with his Mom Ruth, but it seems that he had many residences, traveling about like a little Buddha. He successfully managed to charm all of us, and became a welcome and endearing visitor.

Our courtship began very slowly. You see, I am highly allergic to cats. And because of that allergy, I have never been able to really be around them, let alone pet them. At first, when Chester would come to visit, I would set out a bowl of water, and just watch him gingerly drink from it.

He would snuggle up to my legs, meowing in his very conversational tone, yearning for me to pet him. But I couldn’t. So my very non-allergic husband Doug, would be summoned to do so, and both man and cat were happy, while I looked on, wishing I could participate.

Slowly, our relationship moved from me pining after him, to actual courtship. I began to surrender a bit more, and allowed myself to pet him with one hand. My goodness, the delicious enjoyment he experienced. Lifting his little backside up in the air, tilting his head to one side, emitting his unique and chatty meow.

There were days when I would be in our backyard reading a book, and Chester would jump up on to the wrought iron table, spreading himself out like a blanket, enjoying the warm sunshine. We stayed like that for long stretches, and I realized cats make the best meditation teachers, for they can hold such quiet, contentment for hours, truly being in the present moment.

Our relationship progressed with me now utilizing both hands to pet him. Now mind you, I had to immediately wash them before touching anything else, especially my eyes, but after awhile I stopped worrying. And then, finally two days before Chester passed away , he sat up looking at me with his very sweet expression, and I did it. I let him jump onto my lap, completely ignoring my allergy, which by then had been forgotten.

Petting him that day felt like I had treated myself to a big bowl of comfort served up especially for me. How wonderful to embrace that which I once feared; the rewards of love and connection far outweighing the burdens of allergy anxiety.

Chester was our very sweet, spiritual friend. His spontaneous, surprise visits were like little pockets of sacred time through out the day. A chance to stop, linger, and just be at peace. His aloof, sphinx-like stance, devilish delight and being petted, and serene poses luxuriating in the sun, are just a few of the many memorable portraits Chester has gifted to us.

Chester’s presence was a miracle. And he will always keep a very warm place in our hearts. Thank you Ruth, for sharing such a special being with all of us.