An Angel Remembered

Her given name was Vincenza but for most of her eighty years, she had simply been known as “Vinnie”. Without regret or reservation, she had changed her last name from Giamonte to DiTrapani some fifty-six years earlier during a no frills, war-time wedding.
The groom had been a dashing young solider named Leo and the two of them had remained the epitome of a romantic item until his death in February of that year. Within her mind, Vinnie had accepted the fact of Leo’s illness but in her heart, there hadn’t been enough time for her to prepare for a life without him. Then again, she seriously doubted any amount of time would have proven sufficient.
Vinnie’s devout faith now served as her personal lifeline reassuring her Leo was, in fact, in Heaven with God and his angels. Her aching heart momentarily smiled as she pictured one golden-haired angel in particular. In the midst of moments like this, she longed to be with them.
Although, Vinnie’s inner clock had seemed to stop with her husband’s last breathe, the planet continued to rotate on its axis and the calendar on her desk informed her eight months had passed.
Leo had been her closet friend and anchor, her sweetheart and ardent lover for the better part of her life. Now he was physically gone from that life, but as she was soon to discover, even without his earthly presence, he still had some surprises in store for her.
On this particular Monday morning, at one minute past nine, she was sitting, her spine militarily erect in an apricot reading chair nestled in the corner of her immaculately kept bedroom. There were no social or doctor’s appointments scheduled for the day yet she was attired in a red cashmere sweater and fitted charcoal slacks. Her make-up had been subtly applied with a gentle hand.
She had determined today was going to be the day. No more procrastination. She had a specific task to accomplish…a task she had been dreading since the discovery of the large envelope several weeks earlier.
Garnering her courage, she looked down at the parcel on her lap. The heaviness of the contents within weighed more on her mind than physically on her person.
The French glass doors to the patio were fully opened admitting the pleasant fall-scented air. Vinnie’s appreciated gaze took in every miraculous specimen growing from the once arid and barren soil.
Ultimately, her surveying eyes rested upon a statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary presiding over this miniature oasis. Vinnie sighed heavily, instinctively making the sign of the Cross, wondering if today would be another day, among the many, when she would be compelled to call upon the Holy Mother for inner strength.
Years ago, moving to Las Vegas had been the furthest possibility from the DiTrapanis’ minds. Southern California was the place they had settled early on and built a solid life for themselves and family, but the passage of four decades brought change so gradual to their little community, at first it went undetected. It was seedling blown on an ill wind that germinated, reproduced and steadily overgrew everything in its path
Leo had broached the subject of moving numerous times.
“We can’t stop the hands of time”, Leo was fond of saying and he repeated those words once again to his wife. “And unfortunately,” he added this time, “you and I, Sweetheart, have to face the fact that we’re not getting any younger. Sometime nature or mankind makes it necessary for even an old tree to be uprooted and transplanted in order for it to thrive.”
“Well, this old tree,” Vinnie retorted “is going to have to think long and hard before anyone comes near her roots with a shovel.”
The decision to leave California in 1993 came on the heels of their son-in-law’s promotion and transfer to southern Nevada.
Now sitting in the solitude of the pastel shades within the bedroom she and Leo had shared, she concentrated on the large package still resting on her lap. Leo had never been a man to keep secrets…they had shared everything during their marriage…so why was this package secreted away?
Reaching inside, the first thing her trembling fingers felt was the smoothness of worn leather. Her tactile senses translated the touch directly to her heart. It was Leo’s ancient cordovan journal. She pulled the book free from its confines and protectively clutched it to her chest.
Even now the motion picture starting to play in her mind was as vivid as the stone blue and white Madonna presently outside the patio door. She could clearly see Leo that Saturday in March seated at the kitchen table, his body statue-like, his face carved in grief. On March 8th, with unsuppressed pain and anger, Vinnie turned her back on God believing, with all the shattered pieces of her heart, He had willfully forsaken her and her family.
In retaliation, she hastily grabbed any religious item within her reach. Marching to the tune of this totally strange drummer, she paraded her collection out to the curb and threw everything into the trash receptacle awaiting pickup. But that was then…eons ago.
She gingerly set the journal aside doubting if she possessed the fortitude to read its aged yellow pages today…or ever.
Reaching into the envelope for the second time, she audibly gasped at her findings. Every religious picture or object, even the rosary beads blessed by the Pope, which she had gathered with rage on that fateful day in March and abandoned to the trash, were miraculously preserved.
Her wrinkled hands caressed the pictures as she held the beloved beads so tightly the cross indented her soft palm. She was oblivious to any discomfort. A faraway look drifted in and slowly filled the sapphire eyes now clouded by age as she began the long journey from the present into the past