Words About My Grandmother

The funeral services for Marian Scannapieco Gallagher were yesterday. 

Born in 1910 as Marian Scannapieco, my grandmother was many things to many people.  She was Marian the friend, cousin, sister.  She was Aunt Marian.  She was Mom.  She was Grandmom.  She was GiGi.  And she was also, simply, Mrs. Gallagher. 

A subject matter expert on the last ten decades, she regularly helped us on school history projects.  A survivor to the Spanish Flu, penny-pincher during the great depression, witness to two world wars, Vietnam and many others, she wore flapper dresses and drank in speakeasy's.  She loved to work, whether at Lit Brothers or Kohr Farms.  She'd could recall every detail of what she was doing on December 7, 1941 and compare that to exactly what she was doing on September 11, 2001.  She saw our country go through the civil rights movement, she saw men land on the moon and she survived the disco era.  She never wore jeans, and was always beautifully coiffed. In fact, I remember fondly the story she told me of her 8th grade school photo.  She thought the required midi blouses looked silly and wore clothes of her choosing to school.  She was promptly turned away and sent home.  Her mother marched her back to school in her blouse, holding her hand, and probably rolling her eyes at her daughter's stubborn streak.  Defiantly, she refused to smile for that photo.

Grandmom was a true citizen.  She was a devout Catholic and her faith helped her make sense of tragedies in her life and gave her peace during her last days.  She was a faithful voter, and she could surprise you with her decisions.  She watched the news without fail.  Even in the hospital, she was thoughtfully following Mubarak's departure from Egypt.  She was philanthropic.  Those who were in her home would see her refrigerator was covered with stickers showing the faces of children at St. Jude's she helped with her charitable donations.

For me, one of her defining moments was when, at 19,  three weeks before her marriage to Dominick, a nice Italian man, her 7 older brothers and 1 older sister approved of, she got cold feet and called off the wedding.  She simply said, "I didn't love him."  She waited for a man she loved and found him 12 years later when she married Poppie, James Gallagher.  This independent spirit makes her such a great role model for the women and girls in our family, but it's also clearly been an inspiration to the men in our family, as they have selected partners of character and strength. 

Now, that stubborn independence didn't mean the woman couldn't cook.  To know grandmom was to eat her meatballs and gravy.  If our family had a food, that would be it.  But she also knew what our special favorites would be, whether it was apple pie, or lasagna (but only if it had the little meatballs in it).  She loved to take care of people and nurture them and her wonderful cooking is a legacy we're fortunate to have.

When I think of how we can honor grandmom in our world now that she has left it, I think cooking for those we love is one way to do it.  We can hold a baby in our arms (because we've long lost count of how many children she's cherished).  We can simply hold someone's hand to comfort them.

It was difficult to do that for grandmom over the past few weeks, it was painful to see her suffer.  She had always said she'd wanted to die in her sleep, but we knew she'd be too stubborn to go without a fight.  I think she held on not for herself, but for us.  So that we can all feel our bonds are stronger now then they were before, and so we could begin to prepare for her absence from earth. That selflessness was another way grandmom showed her profound love and grace. 

Marian on her 100th birthday, June 28, 2010.