The family trekked back “home” to Chicago from 7 different states to celebrate my grandson on the starting line and my dad on the finishing line of the spectrum of life. My dad turned 90, July 17 and my grandson turned 5, July 19. Both parties were superhero themed. One hero arrived with a walker, the other with a cape. One filled with well-spent life. One filled with wonder for life. Both loving their first set of wheels too! And, while Hudson’s birthday party was all about fun and games, as appropriate for him and his 5-year-old party pals, my dad entertained 4 generations of us with his answers when prompted by questions about his life experiences.

His story is our history. We learned that Dad taught himself to drive at the age of 17 after he saved enough money to buy himself a car. My son and nephews – all in their 20’s, loved learning this! Dad was the first in his family of 10 – born the sixth child of eight, to accomplish this life skill let alone, as the sixth child, the first to purchase a car in the family - a 1936 Dodge. He was so proud. My dad’s hourly wage at his first job was under $1, and when his pay reached $1 per hour, he was so happy to finally earn some “real money” for his hard work - shocking his grandchildren with this fact. We learned Dad took cover under a military truck during an air raid while serving in the Korean War and had the presence of mind to determine there was enough space for him to remain alive and wedge himself free even if the tires were blown out. A true act of superheroism! His paper-cutting/print press occupation that spanned over 40 years, earned him the title of “Playboy Center Folder.” Everyone laughed at this! The magazine was headquartered and published in Chicago at the time, and Dad was awarded the prestigious job of operating the machine responsible for folding the most important page of this publication. He said, “I never looked! I just got the job done!” He also shared advice and memories from his marriage to my mom, and family life.

My dad is renowned throughout my large extended family for his burping. Okay, while this isn’t one of his proud strong points, it is the way he made strong points! He could belch the alphabet, a song lyric, a reprimand, a greeting, and was regionally famous for his digestive declarations of goofy phrases like “bow-WOW” and “wayga-BOOM.” The great-grandchildren are just old enough to be fascinated by this skill. Hudson asked, “How did you learn to burp G-Gpa?” My dad said he liked getting laughs from his forceful exaggerated burps. He said he did it for fun but unfortunately learned “the technique becomes your norm.” He warned his youngest family members, “Burping is natural. Never force what’s natural because you’ll keep doing that long after it’s funny! You can’t help it!” Unnatural… Yep, that’s my dad. His extraordinary qualities continue to amaze and surprise us, as well as drive us all crazy - literally, behind the wheel!

My mom is a saint.

When asked how he knew my mom was “the one,” my dad responded, “I was in church and felt the Spirit move me to pursue the one with the beautiful black hair in the choir. I told God, I already tried and she wasn’t interested! But, God said to me in my spirit, ‘Try again.’” As only an old-world Italian can, Dad relayed this experience as earnestly through his hands, as he did with his words.

On August 9, my mom and dad will celebrate 63 years of marriage. Did I mention my mom is a saint? She sure is! I was deeply affected and reminded by my dad’s “try again” recollection, that decisions, and especially those that give us the courage to try again, not only change lives, but can also determine whether yours even exists! All 4 generations of us present on Dad’s birthday wouldn’t be here had my dad not taken that second chance with the beautiful black-haired choir girl. Thank you God for the prompting, Dad for listening, and Mom for agreeing!

“Try again” has notable history within my family and inspires a part of our “her story” too. Had my mom’s older brother - the youngest of her three siblings at the time, not tragically passed away at the age of 7 from a strep infection, my mom’s life would not have existed. Born after her brother’s passing, the joy of my mom’s birth helped heal her parents’ broken hearts, and the broken hearts of her then 13 and 11 year old sisters for losing their beloved brother. Mom was the way-younger sister to unusually older parents. Her sisters, my loving aunts, happily would tell us, “Everyone adored and fussed over your mom. She brought joy to our lives again.” My brother, James Arthur, is named in memory of the uncle none of us in my immediate family ever got to know, and his life in turn, added even more joy to my grandparents lives on my mom’s side, before they passed.

“Try again…” These two words are life force to me. They inspired my parent’s marriage despite Dad’s initial rejection. They inspired my grandparents through their grief and despair, and new life filled their souls with my mom’s birth. “Try again” is part of my story too that connects me to the many hardships and rewards of my people - my own heartbreak at the sudden passing of my third child and first son, Chad in 1991.

My story: An ultrasound indicated early on that we were expecting a boy. Thrilled by this news, the weeks counted down to our son’s arrival. Six year old Lauren and 4 year old Katelyn were so excited to meet their baby brother. Twenty-four hours after Chad’s “healthy” full-term birth, he was given a routine Vitamin K shot to the ankle, prior to our hospital release, that led to the discovery of Chad’s imminently fatal congenital heart condition. The entire left chamber of his heart, the chamber needed to oxygenate his blood, never developed beyond a tiny stub. The neonatal heart specialists were astounded that Chad endured full-term pregnancy, natural delivery, and a full day of life with his heart condition before distress signs were even indicated. Up until that time, UNC Hospitals Neonatal ICU team had never seen a living-outside-the-womb, beating heart, quite like Chad’s. As limited options for intervention were grim, I chose, with full support of the team of specialists, to bring my son home and “love him to death.” I still recall hearing my voice say those words in that heart-wrenching moment of decision.

We experienced a miraculous 5 days with our sweet angel boy and made the most of every heartbeat together. Every minute, hour, and day was a celebration of his life. I thanked Chad for his will to live, for his courageous effort to meet us, to know our love, to be a part of our family… We had birthday cake every day. Shiny helium balloons filled our home. We all hugged and held our son and brother non-stop. Then peacefully, when Chad’s time with us was complete, my little warrior surrendered his life on earth, cradled in my arms. The gates of heaven open on two occasions - to give and receive life. For Chad, they remained open for the extraordinary time we got to have him with us. The days we spent together exceeded all medical explanation. Chad’s beating heart films have been studied and used for research, and for about a decade after Chad’s passing, the lead cardiologist from that neonatal ICU team would call me on Chad’s birthday to let me know his heart continues to add valuable information to their research.

“Try again…” I had great expectations that Chad would complete my family in a very different way than he actually has. It’s taken a lot of tears, time and hard work to say that I’m thankful my expectations for my third child were exceeded. Because of Chad, I know the intensely agonizing and overwhelming reconstitution process of grief. A jagged, much bigger, broken heart is retro-fitted into your chest cavity without pain relief. Because of Chad, I know the omnipotence of love, what’s amazing about grace, and truly uplifting about joy. Because of Chad, I know faith works as a gateway to courage, and courage is an action derived from your heart message to “try again…”

Like the stories of my parents, my grandparents, and those of so many who know rejection, disappointment and heartbreak; risking every fiber of your broken being to open your shattered heart to new experiences requires faith because you’re keenly aware that inherent in any potential pursuit of happiness, is the very real potential for something devastating to occur - again. Faith and fear cannot coexist.

Choosing faith - the spirit of “try again,” Jonathan Chad, my second son, was born in 1993. His birth completed our family by Divine design. While it’s important to make a plan, it took many years for me to trust God’s plans still rule over mine. Jonathan is the bonus joy in my life, his dad’s life, and in the lives of his sisters who grieved over losing their baby brother Chad too. With Chad in our hearts, we all double-dosed Jonny with love and attention. I smile at the recollection of the many 2AM feedings that brought us all together - to just be together with our infant son and brother, to meet OUR basic needs along with his! Jonathan knows he’s a reward from hardship. He knows instinctively that his life has a purpose and a plan. He knows his story. Our circle of life, created by these stories and more, that encapsulate several generations of my family, is tragically beautiful.

Every family has a “his story” and “her story” that made you possible. I think we should all understand the unique and special circumstances that brought our lives into existence because very life is created to fulfill unique and special purposes. Knowing the hardships and rewards of your people - the risks, the chances, the courage to overcome grief and adversity adds context and meaning to your life. Hear their stories. Learn from your elders while you can. Their drive and wherewithal is in your DNA. Their hopes and aspirations live on as a powerful life force within you.

We gathered to celebrate life - all of us adding living color to our patriarch’s legacy. For me, this life celebration was about embracing our family history and connecting our stories - adding depth to my purpose for being. I will always remember Hudson’s first superhero 5-year-old party with his friends, and Dad’s engaging and animated stories from his life experiences on his 90th birthday with our extended family. Dad’s words will resonate with me always: “Never force what’s natural…” “I never looked! I just got the job done,” and especially the heartfelt message of “Try again…”

P.S. - Hudson is my first grandson. His middle name is Chad.