I Remember Rosie

I remember the first time I met Rose Marie DiTommaso. I was a mere nineteen years old and anxious to meet the mother of my boyfriend Joe. We had about a year to solidify our relationship void of the infamous family he spoke so highly of in the year of 1976, a Leap Year. I was of course intimidated because I wanted to make a good impression for me and for him. To meet the grand dame of the family was a huge honor.

There were many times we spoke on the phone me and Rosie but now I was about to finally meet her. It took me an entire year to understand Joe and Rosie because they had such thick New York accents-something I was not privy to in all my years of living in Denver. We were scheduled to have dinner downtown at a restaurant called Benihana of Tokyo, then go out to our favorite club and dance until the wee hours of the morning and then back to my apartment to sleep. Dinner was wonderful and I was amazed that a woman could be so funny and pretty at the same time. Her comedic timing was impeccable. Right before she would say something funny there was this look that was on her face that all who knew her know what I am talking about. The evening was a memorable experience.

So I can hear the audience now saying…yes? and then what happened?… because of what was so often blurted out by Rose Marie as though it was a nut stuck in her throat and just dying to come out to save her. The next morning I woke up bright and early with a terrible hang over and Rose Marie looked up at me from the couch (she preferred the couch to sleep on where ever she went) and I posed the question, “Would you like some coffee?” She said, “Yes.” and joined me in the kitchen. As she stirred her coffee she got that look on her face I will miss as long as I live. She was shuffling through my cabinets looking for sugar and she turned and said simply this in true Rosie fashion, “Is this the crap you feeding my son?” I was frozen in my own kitchen like petrified wood. I am positive if you go back to that apartment all these years later, my frozen half baked smile is still some where in that kitchen.

I chalked it up to her being from NY. No, I didn’t like it much but I grew to love this woman with all of her flaws. Yesterday I came across a photo of her and cried most of the day and will never be able to fill the void I feel from losing my friend, my mentor, and my confidant. Over the years this woman taught me how to say what was on my mind and not be afraid, how to cook, how to believe fearlessly in God and above all how to love unconditionally. Last week I went to dinner in a fine restaurant and wore the necklace she left behind for me and with every bite I longed for her to be there at the table with me. Yeah, I know, she’d probably say something silly but at least she would be there with me. Every woman holds in high regard the woman who gave her the wings to fly. Rose Marie DiTommaso gave me my wings and she will forever be in my heart. I will never forget her.