My Family of Origin Paper

 Mother and Father

My mother was a loyal and strong; brave and determined.  My father was quiet and loyal; thoughtful and sensitive.  They were a dynamic duo.  My mother was Italian/Catholic and it made up a lot of who she was.  Her father was a proud man.  Her mother was 10 years younger than him.  Grandma was talented and extremely creative and lots of fun.  They lived during the WWII era.  They had a son that fought in the war.  That son was their only son.  He died a few years after the war was over, in the line of duty as a fireman.  That was a pivotal moment in my mother’s life.  

My father was from France.   His parents were adventurers.  They both immigrated to the United States as young single adults.  My grandmother worked as a maid in one of the big houses in New York City.  Soon after she got a job at one of the biggest department stores in New York City.  That was one of the most exciting times of her life.  On a trip back to France, she met my grandfather.  They married in France and soon had my father.  He was an only child.  The family consisted of my father, his parents and my grandfather’s mother.  They returned to New York after my father was born, but returned to France when my father was five so he could attend school in France.  English was spoken in the home so my father would remain bilingual.  The pivotal moment in my father’s life was living in Paris when Hitler invaded.  

It is interesting to me that I described my parents as loyal because they were so different from each other.  My mother’s family never left the little Italian/Catholic town outside of New York City, and my father’s family never left each other.  

Parents’ Relationship

I was fortunate to grow up with parents who had an ideal marriage relationship.  As a child I leaned over the front seat of the car and asked my mother who her best friend was.  She replied, “Your father.”  I was floored.  I expected her to say her sister or a cousin.  Anyone but my father.  But through the years, I benefited from that relationship.  My mother was diagnosed with lymphoma when she was in her early 40’s.  No one knew about it.  Not her sister, not her mother, not me or my brother….only my father.  It was a secret that they kept for 15 years.  I believe that challenge brought my parents closer together.  They worked in the same office; they had the same circle of friends; my dad sat and talked to my mother as she sewed, but that one secret cemented their relationship.  My father passed away in his sleep over the Christmas holidays when my parents were in their early 60’s.  My mother carried on like a rock.  She didn’t miss a beat.  But before we entered the funeral home, she held my arm tight and said she was going to be vigilant about taking care of her own health, but she wanted me to know that if she should die, how happy she would be to be with my father again.  When that day came, it was one of the most bittersweet days of my life.  I call it one of my “best” days.  

Overall childhood/teen years

I grew up in close-knit Italian/French/Catholic family.  We had cousins that lived next door, around the corner, down the street and a few blocks away.  Every Sunday spaghetti sauce simmered on the stove while we went to church.  Every Sunday night, the adults had coffee and cake and the kids played.  Nothing on earth was better than that.  

The Italian neighborhood that I grew up in was full of kids just like me.  If they weren’t related by blood, they were somehow woven into our family by marriage.  I grew up listening to Italian and French and was able to understand what was said to me.  My father and his family were the only French family in town and that gave me notoriety.  It made me a bit different from the all-Italian kids that I played with.  I cherished my French heritage as a child.  Though my family wasn’t wealthy, we had stories about Paris and Monte Carlo and the fragrance of the flowers in Southern France.  

I was the only girl out of all my first cousins.  I think of all my male cousins now as my first boyfriends.  They understood that I was the unspoken favorite and still treated me with so much love and respect – even until this day.  

My only sibling is my brother.  He was different as a child.  We grew up in a time when Special Education was a new thing.  My brother went to a special school on a little yellow bus and didn’t have an IEP.  He was made of because of the little yellow bus.  Today my brother lives with my husband and I.  He is still different.  But very simple.  There are things he simply LOVES and if he has those things, he is very happy.  One is my grandmother’s record player from 1964 and his vast record collection.  My mother fought to make my brother “normal.”  He graduated high school and got a certificate in TV repair from a vocational school and a job.    

Positive areas

Without a doubt, I would like my marriage to be similar to the marriage that my parents had. Home was our safe and happy place.  While my parents had differences, they respected and honored each other.  I can only remember one argument that they had.  They loved to discuss their day and everything that was happening where they both worked.  They never got tired of that.  They bowled together on a bowling league.  They liked to vacation together.  They loved each other’s families.  

They supported each other.  My mother had a career in a time when women usually stayed at home.  They had a son with disabilities in a world that was not disability friendly.  My mother had cancer for a huge part of their marriage.  

My mother did the typical female duties of the house and my father took care of the outside.  That’s pretty typical.  But in actuality, my mother had a housekeeper as well.  I liked that my mother had her own money, though it was my father that took care of the family budget.  I suppose she contributed to the family budget because we weren’t wealthy.  

I was raised attending Catholic church each week and religious class during the week.  All the kids did that in our neighborhood.  My father was baptized Catholic when he entered the French Army because he had to declare a religion, though he was never a religious man.  

What you would like to do differently

What we have done differently in our marriage is have a Christ-centered home.  The Gospel is the foundation of our family.  Our lives revolve around going to church, serving in church, praying together and weekly family home evenings.  Being raised Catholic, the church was important but it was just something that we did on Sundays.  We were not encouraged to read scriptures at home.  We didn’t even own a Bible.  We didn’t talk about religion, except if it was to say what happened in Mass or who was there.  I feel safe when my husband comes to bed after me and I am almost asleep; I can hear him as he pauses to kneel by the bed before getting into bed.  I love that my husband make God a priority in his life.

My husband and I often joke that we have nothing in common.  Except the gospel and our children.  Both of those things have brought us so much joy.  

How to change

My parents didn’t get to grow old together.  My father died in his sleep on Christmas at age 61.  In time, my mother was baptized into the Church and I was sealed to both of my parents.  I find joy in knowing that they are living out their “retirement years” together in heaven.  

My husband and I are just now facing retirement.  What that will look for us is still uncertain.  Our children live out West, we would love to move there.  We would love the opportunity to serve a mission or in the Temple.  I now
have my brother living with us, so if we can actually spend one year or more away from him is yet to be determined.  What will our free time look like as we retire?  

We feel that life has thrown so many curves at us such as having my brother with us and having our youngest daughter return home with her two children.  Though Jess and the girls are on their own now, it is hard for us to make plans for the future and insuring that my brother will be happy and taken care of.  We have hopes that one day we can go on a mission, and we hope to move out of New York some day.

I would like to see us change in how we communicate with each other.  Communication between us can get heated.  My husband only sees black and white while I see all the greys in between.  I feel that realizing what each other’s core needs are will help us to make steps to improve in that area.  

My Dream

I see love as how my father gave love to my mother.  I have that image of my father sitting at the kitchen table and talking to her as she sewed.  Of course, he didn’t spend all night there.  He would go back and watch TV or read the newspaper then come back and sit with her again.    I would like to see that happen in our marriage.  I would like to have my husband do things, without me having to ask.  I would really to feel more connected in that way.  Like anyone, my dream for my marriage is to continue to feel the comfort I feel with my husband.  He is my North Star, the one I can depend on.  I hope the years ahead bring service to God, joy in being with our family and a rich testimony of Jesus Christ that passes along to our grandchildren.