A Little Piece of Heaven: Epilogue
The day came when we finally welcomed our firstborn son into the world. Michael Maurice Boscorelli was born on Valentine's day at 4:32 p.m. He laid on my stomach, all bloody and red and slimy and yet, he was the most beautiful baby I had ever seen. Bosco cried as he cut the cord, so proud and relieved that our son was safe and sound. If Mikey was a part of me, he was even more so made of the same material as his father. A look-a-like son, he was, and not only in looks but in attitude. He had the same way of turning up his nose and complaining about everything, not to mention everyone, just the same as his father.
Next, came our second son, Brett Charles, weighing in at 7 pounds, six ounces and every bit a Boscorelli, the same as his father and brother. Brett was a little more reserved than his older counter-part. Only speaking up when he absolutely had to, Brett was more of a peace maker, while Mikey was an instigator of all things naughty and forbidden. There were many times, more than their father or I could count, that Brett got his older brother out of trouble, by his quick whit and his ability to deal with children much older and who out weighed him by many pounds. Brett had a calmness about him, mixed with a quiet strength that most kids in our neighborhood knew could be trouble. By the time Mikey was ten and Brett was eight, everyone knew not to mess with the Boscorelli brothers. Joined at the hip, our sons did everything together and were seldom competitive against one another. I knew Bosco was proud, as would any father be, of the way our sons cared for one another.
Last, but not least, when Mikey was four and Brett was two, came our little girl, looking quite similar to Emily when she had been born. Not wanting to name her after the first Emily, Bosco suggested that we call her Emma. As he, again, cut the cord and watched as the doctor set her on my stomach, a certain middle name came to mind.
"What are you going to call her?" Asked our nurse, as she washed off her small body and wrapped her in a warm blanket.
"Emma." Said Bosco as he gently took his daughter from the nurses arms and cuddled her close.
"No middle name yet?"
"Rose. Her name is Emma Rose." I said gently, looking over at my husband who looked up quickly at me, tears coming to his eyes.
He nodded, emotion flooding his features. It was a perfect name for her. Emma Rose.
And so it was decided.
Our little Emma was a joy, not to mention the apple of her father's eye. A daddy's girl from the beginning, she could curl her lip down and bat her deeply blue eyes at her father and he moved heaven and earth to get it for her. As she grew, she looked more and more like Emily had when she had been young. Long blond hair cascaded well below her shoulders, bouncing up in lovely ringlets, giving our little beauty the look of a princess. If we thought she looked like a princess in her many dresses and skirts, bedecked with colorful costume jewelry, complete with her faux fir coat, she was convinced that she actually was a princess, hence her nickname. It gave my heart a certain joy to see my Emily born again in Emma. Years had gone by and yet, there wasn't one day that passed that I didn't long for my two eldest children to be in my arms again. There was still a piece of my heart that they had taken with them, but the joy I had found in the arms of a man that, even after all of those years, still made me feel dizzy at the sight of him, and my other children, made life all that more bearable without Emily and Charlie. I knew that if they had still been around, they would have loved Mikey, Brett and Emma.
Her brothers, fiercely protective and ever loving, always had time for her and treated her like the princess she thought she was. There were times that they squabbled, as does every family, but all Emma had to do was pretend to cry and she had what ever she wanted. By the time she was seven, she knew exactly how to wrap them around her little pink polished finger. In return, she adored her big brothers and sought to be around them whenever she could. For not only was she the biggest girly girl, she was also a tom-boy when she wanted to be and could most often be found out in the garage with her father and brothers tinkering around with whatever they were working on, bedecked in her jewels and pretend high heels.
Many a time I watched them from our back deck and Bosco's eyes would meet mine and mutely stare, both of us understanding and thanking one another for giving the ultimate gift. Love.
Along the mantle in our home, the home that Bosco had grown up in and that we now had made into our very own, were pictures of my five children, lined up according to age. Memories etched into fine paper bearing the faces of all of those I loved so well. In the middle were two other pictures. Pictures that were very important to us as a family. One, of Bosco and Mikey when they were small, remarkably looking the way that Mikey and Brett looked when they were young and the other, a picture of Rose before she got sick. She was forever beautiful in our minds and not a day passed that we talked about her or told our children about her. It was the best feeling in the world to me, to finally have all that I had ever hoped for.
The years passed and our children grew up. It seems to me now, looking back on that time where things were so bad and I wanted to end my life, that God always finds a way to help us heal. In all my life, I never expected to find the joy and the happiness that I experienced in my relationship with my second husband. Even after being married for him for twenty years and counting, I still call him 'Bosco.' Never Maurice, for to me, he will always be Bos. He took me back from wanting death and claimed me for his own, never once asking for anything in return, except my love, and that, I eagerly gave.
Bosco and I had both retired from our twenty-five years as New York City police officers. There were times I knew we both missed our jobs, but we clung to the thoughts of having time to travel and be with our children and now, grandchildren.
I found a streak of gray in his hair today as he passed by me in the kitchen and proceeded to put peanut butter on his toast. I walked up behind him and put my arms around his waist and pressed my cheek to his back, relishing the smell of his after-shave, the way he still felt in my arms, and the feeling of that everlasting love I had grown to understand that I could not live without.
He turned around to face me and wrapped me into a big hug. Without words he leaned down to kiss me and I tasted the sweetness of the peanut butter on his lips. I looked up into his eyes, that were just now starting to show the signs of his age, and brushed my hand lovingly over his cheek.
"You know you're starting to go gray, Mr. Boscorelli." I teased lightly.
"Nah. There's no gray in there. You need to get your eyes checked, woman." He quipped, as he playfully spanked my bottom. "On second thought, isn't gray the color that all grampa's are supposed to have?"
Any day now, we were going to be grandparents. Our little girl, our Emma, was about to give birth to the first Boscorelli grand-baby. At first, Bosco was upset that 'that damn guy' had gotten his little girl pregnant. I had to remind him, more than once, that Rob, not 'that damned guy', was her husband and loved her very much. She had met him in college, where they had both been studying art history at New York University. They had fallen madly in love and had married shortly after graduating. Now, my little girl was a woman, and about to embark on a remarkable journey into motherhood. I couldn't have been happier. But Bosco, on the other hand, was a little slower. It had taken him a while to warm up to the idea that Emma was no longer a little girl and was about to have a baby of her own. She would always be his little girl no matter how old she got, but he found it hard to let her go, as he had with both of our sons. I was thrilled at the idea of being a grandmother and let it be known to anyone who would listen.
Still, every time Emma would see him, she would run holding out her beautifully tanned arms, calling 'daddy, I'm home'. She had grown into a stunning beauty with her long, curly hair, still in ringlets, and perfectly proportioned body. She drew many an eye. I didn't give a damn how beautiful she was, for to me, she could have been homely and her personality, so much like a warm spring day, would have carried her through.
As for our sons, Mikey (who no longer wanted to be called anything but 'Mike') had graduated first in his class at the academy and was now a police officer. We were so proud of him and his accomplishments and his decision to take a career that was both rewarding and was very important to society. He had grown into a handsome young man, perhaps even more handsome than his father, who was like his father in more ways than one. He had Bosco's temper and flair for complaining, but also his soft side, which he didn't let many people see. His dark hair was now wavy, with a bit a curl on the edges. He kept it short, the way his father had always done and year by year I could see how much he looked like and resembled Bosco. He had grown to be six-foot three, perhaps from the genes of Bosco's rightful paternal family, for he surly didn't get it from my family, with smouldering dark eyes and a trim figure. He too, caused many a female passer-by to stop and look twice. He also knew how good looking he was and spared no details to us about all the dates he had. I had to roll my eyes, for he had certainly got that trait from his father as well.
Both his father and myself were thrilled when he had announced his plans of following in our foot-steps. Although we both worried about what could happen to him on the job, we kept our faith that he would make out fine. He had met a wonderful girl his first day at the academy, a girl much like myself. Of course, they didn't hit it off right away, but had ended up being partners and the rest, they say, was history. I knew she was the one for him right away and many nights Bosco and I stayed up talking about how much they reminded us of us, when we were young. I knew if Mikey was as lucky as his father and I had been, that everything would fall into place.
Brett, our always confident and secure, second son, had gone away to college at eighteen to pursue his dream of becoming a writer. Neither Bosco or I had been thrilled at the idea of him moving to Massachusetts, so far away from our little family, but we let him go, as sooner or later we had to do. The hardest part about having your children grow up is that someday you have to let them live their own lives and become their own person. For years, Bosco and I had raised our children and spent every day with them, so much so, that when they were gone we didn't know what to do.
We had both cried the day we took Brett to the airport, each of us hanging on to the other for comfort and support, terribly afraid that if he needed us we would be so far away. He had only been eighteen, and to my way of thinking, he was too young to be out on his own. But Bosco reminded me that he really wasn't on his own and if need be, we would hop on a plane to be in Boston in only an hour or so. He had always been quiet with an inner strength that was easily shown in the way he spoke and the way he carried himself. Still close with his siblings, he called home every week to tell us what he had been doing. Just last year he had finished his degree at Harvard University and had taken a job with the University teaching writing classes to first year students. A look-a-like son, was he, so much like his father and brother, but to my delight, he also had the look of my first son, Charlie. He was a lot like Charlie, in his quietness and his inner strength. Again, I was buoyed by the fact that Charlie had been reborn in my Brett.
He was almost six feet tall, shorter than his brother, but close, with hair the same color as mine and dazzling blue eyes that were sharp and penetrating when he concentrated on anything. He had Bosco's face, but my personality. He was not one to mince words, as was the way of his father and brother. He took his time when he spoke and when the words did come, you could be assured that he had put a great deal of thought into what he said. He was the intellectual, always with his nose in a book, drinking up new knowledge that he seemed to crave. And although he was so different from his brother, when ever he was home, the first person he called was always Mikey.
And so, the day came when Emma went into labour. Bosco and I had been lounging around home on a Saturday afternoon watching something of little importance on the television, when the call came. One, two, three rings and Bosco was grumbling in annoyance about having to get up off of his rear end and answer the phone which was two feet away.
"Hello"?
"Daddy?"
"Emma, what's wrong? Is it time?" He cried, looking over at me and motioning with his arm for me to come closer.
I set down my cross-word puzzle and got up to get closer. From the excitement he was displaying, I thought I might as well stand beside him in case he fainted.
"It's time. The baby's coming. Can you come to the hospital?" Came her pitiful voice, seemingly a million miles away.
"Of course, princess. We'll be right there!" He babbled into the phone and then threw it on the couch next to him. I hadn't even had a chance to speak to her, but in his excitement he hadn't realized that he had hung up on her either.
He clapped his hands together and looked at me, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "It's coming, Faith! It's coming!" He squealed, leaning in to gather me in his arms. "Oh, baby, we're gonna be grandparents today! Get ready! We don't want to miss it"!
I hugged him equally tight, happy and excited that the newest edition of our family was on his or her way. "Calm down, Bos. It's gonna take while. Remember how long it took for Mikey to get here?" I laughed, amused at how excited he was.
He wasn't listening, however, he was already dialing Ty and Sasha's number to give them the news and the baby hadn't even been born yet!
Ty and Sasha had got married about a year after we had and we thought it was the best thing that either of them had ever done. Like one, the four of us had become after twenty years of being the best of friends. We vacationed together, had barbeques together, raised our kids together and were now, going to be grandparents together. They had two children, a boy named Tyrone and a girl named Carly. Tyrone was the same age as Mikey and Carly was Brett's age. She had gone off to college at Boston Bay when Brett had gone. They shared an apartment the whole way through school and still lived together now. I had my sneaking suspicion that they were a lot more than friends, but neither of them ever mentioned it and we didn't ask. In time I was sure that we would find out. Tyrone had a son with his live-in girlfriend, who Ty and Sasha didn't really care for, but didn't say anything about, for fear that they wouldn't get to see Elijah. Elijah was two and was one of the most beautiful babies I'd ever seen. Still, Ty and Sasha were thrilled to be grandparents and were thrilled for us that we were about to embark on the same adventure.
After getting off the phone, Bosco ran upstairs to change, while I waited at the bottom of our stairs, pacing, hoping that the labor wouldn't be too hard on Emma. He came bounding down the stairs, displaying remarkable energy for a man in his fifties and gave me a pointed look. "I just hope that damned guy is gonna be supportive of her." He said as he grabbed his coat and mine off of the coat rack.
I groaned as he helped me into my coat. "Bosco, when are you gonna start calling him by his name? He's good to her and he loves her. It's about time you realized that.'
He gently lifted my hair out of the back of my coat and smoothed it down over my shoulders, then wrapped one arm around me and pushed my hair aside so he could kiss my neck slowly and sensually. "I'll start tomorrow." he promised, teasingly. I knew he wouldn't but it didn't matter at that moment. I just hoped that when we got into the delivery room that he didn't call Rob that name.
In a matter of seconds my body was responding to his kisses, but just when I was really starting to get into what he was doing to me, he took his hands off of my waist and gave me a shove toward the door.
"Come on, Grandma, we can't stand here all day!" He cried.
I threw back my head and laughed. My Bosco. He never changed.
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At 8:17 p.m. that evening, with Rob on one side and Bosco and I on the other, our granddaughter arrived. Everyone crying and full of emotion, as we watched our son-in-law cut the cord, severing mother from daughter, making her now, fully and completely her own person. Bosco held my hand tightly and squeezed hard, looking over at me, tears making their descent down his cheeks, his elation reflecting my own feelings. How wonderful to not have to say anything at all, because you know that the person you are with knows exactly how you are feeling.
My mind recalled the last three times I had been in this room and had been handed a miracle, each one no more precious than the other, and the joy I had felt to be a mother again. I saw that same look in my daughter's eyes as she held her daughter for the first time. Proudly, Bosco and I stood beside her, leaning down every few seconds to lavish kisses on her forehead or hair, telling her how happy we were for her.
And like before, so many years ago, Emma's nurse asked what the baby's name was going to be. Both of us looking at her expectantly, dying to know what name they had picked, for they wouldn't give so much as a clue to any name they favored.
My daughter looked up at me, her blue eyes shining with tears, and reached for my hand and for Bosco's with her other hand. "Mom and dad, we would like to introduce you to your granddaughter, Emily Faith Justason. Would you like to hold her?"
Fresh tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks and dripped off my chin as I reached down and held my granddaughter for the first time. I was so thrilled that they named her after Emily and honored that they used my name as well.
"She's going to go by Faith." Rob said, looking over at me. "We wanted her to have a strong name. Just like her grandmother."
I handed Faith over to Bosco, who tenderly held her in his arms, and gave Rob a big hug and then Emma.
"Thank you. This is the best gift I've ever received." I choked out.
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Days came and went and with it, more seasons of winter, spring, summer and fall. The days went by so fast and before we knew it, Faith was a year old. She had dark hair, just like her father and deep blue eyes, like her mother. She was very precocious and, I thought, very ahead of other children her age. She had walked when she was only 11 months old and by the time her first birthday came she was running around our back yard all by herself.
She was, as was to be expected, a grampy's girl. She loved Bosco and was content to be wherever he was. He, in turn, spent every moment he could with her and lavished all his attention to his little princess.
On this day, I was sitting outside on our back deck watching Bosco chase Faith around the yard. Her babyish giggles, music to my ears as I watched my husband with her. Time had changed Bosco in ways that I never thought possible. He was now a lot more grounded and mellow to what he had been in his thirties. Little things no longer bothered him the way that they used to and although he complained about things as much as he ever had, I had the feeling that he did it for my benefit.
On the table beside me was a brown envelope with my name on it. Curiously, I picked it up and examined it. There was no address or post marking, so I knew that it must have been dropped off. I held it over my head and shouted to Bosco. "Where did this come from?"
He stopped what he was doing and looked over at me and shrugged his shoulders. "I dunno. Open it and see."
I tore it open and pulled out a beautiful card depicting what someone thought heaven might look like. My eyes scanned over the colorful picture, with it's pink, orange and blue clouds, with an angel sitting on a puffy white cloud. I opened it up and immediately, my eyes filled with tears.
Inside, there were only eleven words, but words that sent my heart soaring.
"Thank you for being my little piece of heaven. Love Bosco."
He looked up at me again, grinning as he picked Faith up and came to sit down beside me on the lounge. I cupped my hands around his dear, dear face and kissed him. Then I lifted little Faith onto my lap and cuddled her close.
This was what it was all about. Having your little piece of heaven. I knew I had found mine.
The End
Note: Thank you to all who faithfully reviewed this story. I am really thinking about taking this story into the lives of Mikey, Brett and Emma. Also, Tyrone and Carly. Only if you want me to, for I only want to write about stuff that you all are interested in. Let me know. Ciao.