“Honey! I need help with the turkey!” I shouted as John watched football in the other room.
I was hosting Thanksgiving. My family and John’s family were nestled in my apartment. It was hot, stuffy, and I was already exhausted.
“Coming!” John rushed into the kitchen and helped me pull the bird out of the oven. It looked and smelled delicious.
“Babe, it’s perfect,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.
“Thanks.”
His kiss made all of this worth it. One tiny touch made my whole body feel warm and tingly. I couldn’t believe that last Christmas was when we met. It had been a magical 11 months. We met in December, and got engaged in February. I threw a large birthday celebration for John in July, and we celebrated my birthday in August. Not to mention, our very romantic get-a-way in September to the Caribbean. Our wedding date was going to be June 27, 2015. Everything was finally falling into place.
After college, I became so focused on my career I hardly had time to date. Then as I entered my late 20’s I began to panic. Everyone started getting married or engaged or having babies. And what I was doing? I was ordering Netflix and eating Chipotle on Friday nights. I had lost all hope until I stumbled upon the man of my dreams in December. And since then, I felt like I’d been living a fairy tale. John was handsome, sweet, hardworking, and best of all he adored me. And I adored him.
“Time for dinner!” I called. My family and John’s family came into the kitchen. Since I’m Italian, we ate our ravioli first, and then all of the Thanksgiving essentials. We ate turkey, stuffing, cranberries, and the very best pies for dessert. Looking around my Thanksgiving table, I saw my mother and father holding hands. I saw my sister Nella and her husband with their new baby. I saw my wonderful Grandpa Giuseppe smiling at me, and all of John’s family digging in. And I saw my sparkler engagement ring on my left hand. I looked over at John. I think this had to be the best moment of my life.
***
“I have so much to clean up!” I said, scrambling around my apartment. My family had left, and now it was me and a destroyed house. Ugh!
John pulled me into his arms. He kissed my lips gently.
“Not so fast,” he said. “I want to tell you, Miss Pugliese, what I am thankful for. And that something is you. This had to be my very best Thanksgiving ever. I love you so much.”
He kissed me again, leaving me light headed and dizzy. He picked me up and carried me to my bedroom. Nothing beats making love to your fiancé, but it’s even better when it’s on Thanksgiving.
***
John had slept over, and the next morning we stayed in bed and kissed and cuddled. We decided to skip out on Black Friday shopping and grab bunch instead. We planned to go to brunch at the Clubhouse in Oak Brook, which always has a beautiful spread. On the drive there, my cell phone rang.
“Melissa?” It was my mom on the other end of the phone. “Grandpa is sick and he’s in the hospital. He’s at Elmhurst Hospital.”
“John! We have to go to Elmhurst Hospital now!”
John swung the car around, and swerved in between cars. When we finally got to the hospital, we ran inside and up to the floor where my grandpa was staying.
“What happened?” I asked Nella, holding her new baby, Giovanna.
“Grandpa was feeling sick last night, so he checked himself into the hospital. They’re running tests on him,” she said.
“Feeling sick? After Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Yep.”
“Did I do something?” I asked. I thought back on all of my hours of slaving in the kitchen. Had I cooked something wrong?
“Sweetheart, no,” Nella replied. “He’s in his 80’s. These things happen.”
We waited at the hospital for two hours. My stomach grumbled. Since we hadn’t eaten breakfast, I was starving. John and I decided to go down to the cafeteria to grab a crappy cup of coffee or some toast.
“Just when the universe knows you’re happy, something always goes wrong,” I said, taking a sip of my coffee. “Why does that always have to happen?”
“Sweetheart, it’s called life. What would happy moments be if there wasn’t sad moments? I’m sure your grandpa will be fine.”
John always had a way of making me feel better.
We walked back up to my grandpa’s room. Myself, John, my parents, Nella, Baby Giovanna and Nella’s husband Joe all squeezed in the room. My grandpa looked so old and weak.
“You’re going to be okay, Grandpa,” I said, holding his hand.
“Oh, I will be,” he said. “Nothing’s going to keep me away from my baby’s wedding in June.” Tears began to develop in my eyes. Here he was sick in the hospital, and all he was thinking about was attending my wedding.
Dr. Miller came into the room with the test results.
“Well, Mr. Pugliese,” the doctor said, “It seems to me that you’re diabetic.”
“I’ve known that for 20 years,” my grandpa said.
“Have you been taking care of it?” Dr. Miller asked.
“No. And I really let myself enjoy that meal that my beautiful granddaughter prepared last night,” he said winking at me.
“Mr. Pugliese, you have to test your sugars and control them. That is why you were feeling sick last night– they were sky high. You have to take care of yourself. If you don’t, you won’t be so lucky next time. It seems that you’re doing okay now, and you can go home. But please, be cautious.”
“Yes, yes.”
John and I volunteered to drive grandpa home. Him and my grandma have lived in Elmwood Park for over 50 years. When my grandma died four years ago, my grandpa has really never been the same. He misses her so much that he said his heart hurts.
“It feels good to be home,” he said, entering his house.
“Grandpa, you need to take care of yourself!” I said. “You need to stay healthy for us!
“I know, babe. I know. Sit down, I want to talk to both of you.”
John and I sat down at the kitchen table. Grandpa walked to his bedroom and brought out a Rosary.
“Melissa, I was 19 years old when I came to America from Italy. My father and I were going to America to find work, and we had to leave my mother and my two sisters behind. Before I left, my mother gave me this Rosary. She told me to pray the Rosary every night before I went to sleep.” Grandpa stopped and took a deep breath. “So, my father and I took a ship here. Every single day I prayed this Rosary. I prayed my mother and my sister’s would be healthy. I prayed I would find wealth in America. Most of all, I prayed to find a wife.”
My Grandpa stopped and poured himself a cup of coffee. He took a large gulp.
“We arrived in September, and my father and I found work as construction workers. We lived with our distant cousins who weren’t very nice. When we finally got enough money, we rented our own apartment. We worked hard, learned English fast, and always sent money home to my mother in Italy. I continued to pray this Rosary. On Thanksgiving, about two months after we’d arrived in America, I was out in the supermarket. It was our first Thanksgiving as Americans. As I was picking out the turkey, I spotted this beautiful woman with long, brown hair. I approached her and told her my name was Giuseppe. She told me her name was Nella. And, I… was madly in love. At first, Nella didn’t like me. Her father had come to America in the 1890’s so they were more assimilated. They had a beautiful home in Chicago and she had big plans to go to college. And, she worked! She wanted a career. She didn’t want to get married at age 19! But, I loved her. And eventually, she grew to love me. We got married when we were both 20. Of course, her father hated me. He didn’t want is daughter to be with some dumb immigrant. He wanted her to be with a more “American” man that had some money. I obeyed his wishes and made sure that Nella finished college. She became a…”
“Grandma Nella was a nurse,” I said.
“Yep. She became a nurse. And I went to school to become a plumber. We bought this house, and we had two sons. One of them being your father, Melissa, obviously.”
“Well, what happened to your father? My great-grandpa?” I asked.
“He moved back to Italy to be with my mom and sisters, after our wedding,” Grandpa said. Grandpa got tears in his eyes. “I never got to see my mother and sisters again. But, maybe I’ll see them in Heaven. What do you think?”
“I think you’ll be reunited one day,” I smiled.
“But, the moral of my story, Melissa, is I prayed this Rosary to meet your grandmother. And, I prayed this Rosary that you would meet someone wonderful. And you did. You met John. Yesterday, since it was Thanksgiving, I was overwhelmed with joy to see the two of you together. I promise you Melissa I will stay healthy for your wedding. I would not miss it.”
I walked over to my grandpa and gave him a hug. “I love you,” I said.
John and I left and held hands on the car ride home.
“I love you, John,” I said.
“I love you, Melissa,” he said.
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