In Memory of Mr. Z

As it turns out, I was asked to share my thoughts/memories of my boyfriend’s dad who passed away last night at the age of 95, a month or so shy of his 96th birthday. Consequently, it kind of works for Blogging101’s assignment #4…to write a post with a specific person/persons in mind. And although this may not be my ideal audience, it is intended for a specific audience…his family and friends, during his funeral later this weekend.

I am not a mom, at least not of human children, so I don’t have to follow the rule about not having favorites.  Mr. Z was my favorite Z! I never got to know my own grandfathers because they died before I was born or when I was very young, so Mr. Z was the ‘grandpa’ I got to know.

I was lucky enough to spend many, many meals with Mr. Z and the rest of the Z’s. Lots of evenings at their house, where there was always a huge pot of macaronis on the stove and almost always with meatballs. And if by chance, they weren’t on the stove, you could be pretty sure that there was a huge bowl of ‘ronis in the fridge just waiting to be heated up and enjoyed.  Either way, it always tasted like home. Most of my memories of Mr. Z revolve around delicious Italian food 🙂

Mr. Z was my connection in Connecticut to my own Italian heritage. You could have plopped him down right in the middle of one of my own Italian family gatherings and he would have fit right in…the same traditions, the same kinds of food, the same random Italian words/phrases that I have learned from so many of my aunts and uncles. It was like being with one of my own relatives.

Over the years, we shared so many conversations comparing how my mom made certain Italian foods…like homemade pasta, gravy (a.k.a. Italian sauce to most everyone else…not brown gravy), Italian cookies, ricotta pie, pizzelles, Easter bread, pizza frit and so much more…with how he would do it…and so much of it was the same. After one such conversation, the next time my boyfriend and I came to dinner with them…they made pizza frit (fried dough)…just like my mom’s!! It was awesome!

Mr. Z spent lots of time listening to old Italian music…plus this just happens to coincide with the assignment of adding a ‘new to me element’ on my blog!

Then a few years ago, my parents were visiting over Thanksgiving and you would have thought they were long lost cousins the way they got along…so after that when my mom would send me a care package of Italian cookies or Easter bread that she made, she would say she put some extra in for Mr. and Mrs. Z. However, Mr. Z was really the only person I wanted to share them with, because he truly appreciated them.

During those many meals, I got to hear so many stories from Mr. Z about his army life, and growing up in this town in the early 1920 and ’30s or as a young man raising his family here in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s. I could listen to him forever. And even though Mr. Z could and would tell stories whenever he had a captive audience…on many other occasions of Z family gatherings, that I have been blessed to be a part of, he was kind of quiet and an observer of everyone around him. If you happened to be the introvert quietly observing from the side lines and paying attention, you could catch him shaking his head, or rolling his eyes and laughing at all the stories being told and conversations between family members going on around him. Even not all that long ago, during visits to see him at the nursing home, when he seemed to fade in and out…if some elderly patient was acting a little crazy, he would catch your eye and just shake his head and chuckle with you.

Then there were the many holiday meals at our house over the years. Mr. Z was the most appreciative person to cook for! He always said how good it was…and would sit at the table and eat for hours! And as soon as he was done with his meal…he would say, ”Where is the coffee??” He wants his coffee and dessert now! And usually for all those holiday meals, I would make my mom’s cheesecake with blueberry topping for dessert. After a while, I started getting request from other Z’s for other kinds of cheesecake, like plain or strawberries or something. But NOPE…Mr. Z was my favorite…and Mr. Z loves blueberries (and ok…my boyfriend actually loves blueberries too, so he kind of lucked out in the process)…so blueberry cheesecake it is!!! (And just as a warning to the rest of the Zs, it may actually be blueberry cheesecake in Mr. Z’s honor from now on!)

There was even a time or two that he referred to me as ‘his other daughter’…and that was probably the highlight of the last 10 years or so that I have known Mr. Z. I am sad to see him go and  it breaks my heart…but I think Mr. Z is happy to be home with Jesus and reuniting with all his Army buddies and all the people from back in the ‘good ole’ days’.