Growing up I always considered Zia Carla an aunt. Our families were so close and her story was so similar to my mother’s.
Carolina Fodero grew up in Catanzaro, Italy and, like my mom, met an American Coast Guard man named Bill in Calabria, moved all over the place after they got married together. Both had two sons, the first of which was named Joe. Both families lived on the Coast Guard base on Governor’s Island, New York, in southern California, and also in the San Francisco East Bay, where both families ended up settling.
I was always the lucky one because my brother and sister hardly knew their god-parents. Mine was more of a godmother to us all. Over the years my mom and Carla spoke constantly. Even when their ability to visit each other was limited, I tried to drive my mom to Carla’s house for regular visits. It was really tough on Carla when my Mom died from ovarian cancer five years ago. I honestly think Carla was closer to my mom than some of her own siblings back in Italy.
Before and after my mom died I regularly took my daughter to visit Carla and of course I had gone with my ex-wife, which I later found out was pregnant with our daughter in these pictures at Carla’s house. I even took a few of my boyfriends over the years. At first, I was hesitant to introduce them to Carla because I knew she was very pious, but that was silly of me. She always embraced them without hesitation and it made me cry when she told them to “TAKE CARE OF MY GOD-SON!” What a woman!
While she actually survived Covid, she was yet another cancer victim (a sad further similarity to my mom), which makes me all the more determined to learn and fight for health equity, diminish carcinogens and try to encourage others to live healthier lives. I do believe we can all be living longer and better quality lives if we can use science to fight the toxins in our environment. I’m just so glad we had so many good years with someone who had an outspoken heart about her passions.
My husband Shando was, fortunately, able to spend a number of trips with Carla, and before Covid, Carla had some medical issues that had her in nursing facilities that happened to be very close to where I worked. I cherish the chances I had to visit her and I even took some video of Carla saying hello to my family in Italy. This was in 2019, so before Covid:
I was so happy to speak Italian with her as she was continuously surprised how much of it I still spoke. I think it was also a good exercise for her mind to speak both languages. I know it is for mine.
I cherish the pictures I have with her through the years. Here are some of them spanning from the 1960s (at my actual baptism where she is holding me) until just a few years ago:
1967 my god family and my parents1967 Ambroses with my momJoe Hayden baptism1970s Brentwood1991With Bill, Pina and Antonio201520152016 Carla and me with John, Nichole and Alexandra
Tucker had some health struggles this past week and he died around 4a.m. Pacific on April 18, 2021. He would have been 16 on May 7.
To be clear, I love all my dogs, but Tucker bonded to me like no other dog in my life. It wasn’t just like losing a dog, because I had become the focus of his world. He not only followed me from room to room, he always had to have a watch on me when possible, even after he lost an eye to glaucoma, was partially blind due to a cataract, and became deaf. Even more, he would do whatever he could — including perilously jumping in his younger days — to get next to me and become an almost permanent thigh flank when I was on the couch. He wasn’t just near me to be close to food. He was just home and most content to be next to me at all times I eventually realized.
I already had a boy and girl Yorkie when Shando and I got together in 2014. Soon after we got together, Shando got a call from his ex, with whom he had originally adopted Tucker and daughter, Bella. Shando’s ex had taken care of them for three years in the Central Valley and at that time could not. We agreed to take them for a few weeks; that was seven years ago.
Without any prompting, Tucker just started gravitating toward me and looking at me so lovingly. I don’t think I deserved it, but it was most endearing. I kept noticing that he would consistently leap out of other people’s arms (even Shando’s) just to get back to me as if I was the only human that mattered.
Home memorial for Tucker:
Tucker became less ambulatory this last year, even though we moved to a more dog-friendly house with fewer steps. He loved me holding him like a baby in the sun. I usually tried to protect his remaining eye with my own shadow, or turn him around so that he could feel the warm sun on his almost bald skin. The last few months we did a lot of that while birds flew in and out of the yard and the fountains dripped. There are certainly no regrets there.
Taking care of him recently did involve picking him up and putting him down. We no longer trusted him to go up the doggie stairs himself without injury, as his equilibrium was no longer the same. When he would wander the house we usually adorned him with male dog diapers in case he would pee with his head out the magnetic screen (thinking he was outside) when his piss stream was still inside the doorway. Poor guy thought he was house-trained, but not perfectly. That’s the peril of having a geriatric male elongated wiener dog/Dachshund I suppose.
Just a few weeks ago when I was not wearing socks, I was actually pretty annoyed with him that every moment I was not paying enough attention to him, he would incessantly lick my ankles to garner a response from me. I’m going to miss that now.
We made the right decision during Covid, difficult as it was, not to hospitalize him. He likely would have died among strangers, with tubes in him, and we probably wouldn’t have been able to see him again. Instead, the vet gave him pain meds to relax him one more night while we contemplated the best path forward. That night he died in his sleep between Shando and me. I woke up numerous times and heard him breathing somewhat heavily, but at some point I realized the top half of his body was already cold and his breathing had stopped completely. He looked so peaceful getting sleep in a choice location between his daddies. He was flanking me until the end, as it should have been. The vet had said he had such a strong heart he would have otherwise lived to twenty, but my little trooper is now out of all of his discomfort and pain.
Tucker made a huge impression on the last seven years of my life. I’m so glad we have innumerable pictures and video footage of him and the other dogs, including vacations we took with them to various vacation rentals, countless trips to the parks, lakes, ocean, and just around the house and backyard. I notice now that even when we were in unfamiliar locations, he was not one to run far from me and was almost always underfoot.
Indeed, over the past year, many have come to recognize him as the dog sleeping on my chest during Zoom meetings. So many commented on how zen he looked just laying there. Only Tucker cherished being held like a baby for extended periods of time. I don’t think any of our other dogs would tolerate or appreciate that. I surely will miss his weight on me and the warmth of his little body. Shando always mused about getting a pot-bellied pig as a pet, but I reminded him regularly that we had our pot-bellied Tucker.
Bella was with him her whole life. She looks a lot like him, but they have very different personalities. Bella did lick him a lot the night before he died, but that was common. I don’t know if she was able to pick up on the fact that he was dead the next morning when we let her sniff him, but she will surely notice he’s not there to cuddle with him in yin and yang formation next to my home office desk as they did most days. It’s frustrating that I can’t explain to her that her life will never be quite the same. Mine won’t either.
April 2021 – Tucker and me a few weeks before he died..
For the longest time, most people on Zoom remembered me like this (with Tucker):
Today is a sad four-year anniversary of Mom dying much too soon, made bittersweet because we are only a few days before we buy our dream house here in California. I know she wanted a better life for all of her kids, even though her scrimping still has not yielded that. Indeed, it has been squandered by one she trusted and we are still fighting to make her dream manifest. What’s made me more melancholy the last few days is the realization that had she lived, this house would have afforded an ideal situation for her to have her own independent place on the property. Sadly, there is no reason for me to think about such a prospect, because I no longer have a mother that I can take care of, as we did the last few months of her life when she was taken by a particularly insidious form of cancer.
Among the dedications to my amazing grandmother, what follows is the English and Italian transcription of this video from my uncle Massimo, a son-in-law, in whose house my grandmother lived with him and my aunt Luciana in her last year:
My last goodbye
It was August 4th (2019) and I was in Caserta, when a call comes in – Alert! You had to rush back in, because a second mom was about to leave. To be sure I called my niece Dr. Morena Rocca, who told me firmly: uncle you need to return. Three and a half hours and we were back in Catanzaro. Getting us to the hospital was onerous. Then space was made for my children, my son-in-law, my nephew and me, and we came in to bid you farewell. The next day, willingly or unwillingly it was fate that your moment had not come.
In the hospital you weren’t feeling well and you were going through so many painful moments. When they told us you couldn’t make it we decided with your daughter Luciana to take you to our home, to your old room. Here you felt pampered, protected and safe, far from the evil darkness. You didn’t give up …… and to our amazement you recovered. After a month, bad luck knocked on your door again, but it couldn’t keep you down. You came up with the living spirit telling death “go for a ride!” We saw you eat, joust and joke, looking happy. You had a strength that did not want to give up. Time passed and the dark knocked again, for which you ended up in the hospital again as Christmas was approaching. Days and days of treatment were continued until the hospital take her home because her life is about to end.
Once again we decide that you would have been with us in your home; there in that room, where you felt safe surrounded by your old wall. Medicine, oxygen and much more you needed to live hour by hour …You couldn’t taste food anymore and that’s how you only went on with a smoothie. Since December we have gone on without emergency visits, unfortunately seeing your strength slowly fade away.
Your will was strong but we got to that day March 27th and do you know why? We were looking forward to celebrating your 93rd birthday! The cake; The candles; it was all perfect if it weren’t for the illness that took you, forcing your loved ones not to be there. With Luciana we managed to make your grandchildren sing you best wishes through a computer.
From that moment only 48 hours passed … and on May 29 your heart stopped. On that beautiful Sunday I saw my wife Luciana vexingly go back and forth …… almost as if he felt the moment to come. You who called “my daughter; my mom; my caregiver; my everything.”
She who called you my princess no longer had the same harmony. Luciana felt the cursed hour come, but that alone, you were not ready to face. Luciana needed her sisters to accompany mom along her journey to the stars. Luciana remained by your side for several hours, but always with that great love, only when she was alone for a moment did she decide to go that way, following that light.
I put my hand on your chest, but I understood that your heart was no longer working. My tears began, but I think about how you went away just as you wanted in your house, next to your loved ones, falling asleep without feeling more pain…with tranquility ………. to reach the afterlife now.
Now everything was finished, everything had started; fly to heaven in a blissful way. Maria Torto flies to heaven, and again I bid you adieu, my second mother.
Still the virus forbids us to attend your mass; A month has already flown ………. But quiet mom; I have not forgotten
Massimo Rocca 30 March 2020
Il mio ultimo saluto
Era il 4 agosto e mi trovavo a Caserta quando arriva una chiamata; un’allerta. Bisognava di corsa rientrare, perché una seconda mamma se ne stava per andare. Per avere la certezza chiamavo mia nipote la dottoressa Morena Rocca che mi disse con fermezza: zio torna; te lo confermo con la mia bocca. Tre ore e mezzo ed eravamo a Catanzaro, ed a farci entrare l’ospedale era avaro. Ma poi spazio è stato fatto per i miei figli, mio genero, mio nipote ed io, e siamo venuti dentro per darti l’addio. Il giorno dopo, volente o nolente diceva il fato, che il tuo momento non era arrivato. In ospedale non stavi bene e passavi tanti momenti di pene; e quando ci hanno detto che non ce l’avresti fatta, decidemmo con tua figlia Luciana, di portarti a casa nostra, nella tua vecchia tana. Qui ti sei sentita coccolata; protetta e al sicuro lontana dal male oscuro…Non ti sei arresa …… e con gran stupore ti sei ripresa. Dopo un mese, la cattiva sorte bussò nuovamente alla tua porta ma non si era accorta che eri risorta. Ne sei venuta fuori con lo spirito vivo dicendo alla morte “vatti a fare un giro!”
Ti vedevamo mangiare; giocare; scherzare e contenti dicevamo: ha la forza e non se ne vuole andare. Il tempo passava e l’oscuro bussava…per il tanto male sei finita di nuovo in ospedale, mentre si avvicinava il Natale. Giorni e giorni di cure per sentirci alla fine dire: portatela a casa perché la sua vita sta per finire. Ancora una volta decidiamo che saresti stata con noi nella tua casa; lì in quella stanza, dove ti sentivi al sicuro circondata dal tuo vecchio muro. Medicine, ossigeno e tanto altro ancora ti servivano per vivere ora per ora…Del cibo nulla gustava più il tuo palato, ed è così che sei andata avanti solamente con un frullato. Ma da dicembre siamo andati avanti senza corse, vedendo purtroppo pian piano svanire le tue forze. Qui, forte è stata la tua volontà, e siamo arrivati a quel giorno là, al 27 marzo e sai perché? non vedevamo l’ora di festeggiare i tuoi anni 93. La torta; le candeline; era tutto perfetto se non fosse stato per il virus che ti ha fatto un dispetto, ha costretto i tuoi cari a non essere lì, ma con Luciana, siamo riusciti a farti cantare dai nipotini tanti auguri attraverso un pc. Da quel momento son passate solo 48 ore… e giorno 29 si è fermato il tuo cuore. In quella bella giornata di domenica vedevo mia moglie Luciana strana; avanti ed indietro andare …… quasi come sentisse il momento arrivare…Lei che definivi mia figlia; la mia mamma; la mia badante; la mia tutto. Lei che ti chiamava principessa mia, non aveva più la stessa armonia. Tu Luciana avvertivi l’ora maledetta arrivare, ma che da sola, non eri pronta ad affrontare; avevi bisogno delle tue sorelle per accompagnare la mamma tra le stelle. Siete state al suo fianco per diverse ore, ma lei, sempre con quel grande amore, solo quando è stata un attimo sola ha deciso di andarsene per quella via, seguendo quella luce …..quella scia.
Metto la mia mano sul tuo petto; ma capisco che il tuo cuore non ha più retto. Cominciano le lacrime mamma mia, ma penso al come sei andata via: proprio come tu volevi; a casa tua; accanto ai tuoi cari; addormentandoti senza sentire più dolori; con la tranquillità ………. di raggiungere ora l’aldilà. Ora tutto è finito anzi tutto è iniziato; vola in cielo in modo beato; vola in cielo Torto Maria e di nuovo ciao, seconda mamma mia.
Ancora il virus ci vieta di partecipare alla tua messa; Un mese è già volato………. Ma tranquilla mamma; non mi sono scordato
Massimo Rocca 30 Marzo2020
I will forever miss my Nonna Maria. She died today after turning 93 two days ago. The circumstances are rather odd because of the quarantines, especially in Italy.
This is us in 2009 in Calabria, where she lived her whole life. What a brilliant smile she had here. This matriarch was a savvy business person and raised NINE kids. Her sense of humor was extraordinary. Her pragmatism was to be admired. It’s the end of an era today. I’m so glad my husband Shando Darby Hayden got to meet her over the years. She made it a point to video chat us with congratulations on our wedding in 2018. Her love was always unconditional. We last saw her last September. I know she appreciated our traveling that far and making a point of spending a lot of time with her. I was the very first grandchild she had of all of her grandchildren and she lived to be a GREAT-GREAT-grandmother. How often do you hear that? My mother was the first child she had, even though my beloved mother, died four years ago. You can imagine how that broke my Nonna’s heart.
Tony was one of my very best friends since the mid 1990’s. We were neighbors in Brooklyn. At times we were even housemates in New York, and for the last several years of his life here in California. He worked as a chemistry professor in his later years, but had been a big-time activist and grant writer for many years between his getting a Master’s Degree in Chemistry and almost finishing his Ph.D. I’ve heard from his students that he was a beloved and effective teacher, and I know he got a lot out of spreading knowledge.
We often traveled together, including the only time he ever traveled to Europe. We went to Spain, France and Italy, including a trip to visit my family there, with my daughter and me.
Even though he never drove, we also took road trips in California. He and I enjoyed traveling down to explore southern California together a number of times.
It was terrible to lose a friend at 53, but Tony was obstinate and chose his own paths. I miss him terribly, but I have solace that he is out of pain, as cliche as that is. Here are some of my fonder memories of the many years we knew each other.
Shando, Joe, Tony and Alexandra Hayden at Tony’s 50th birthday dinner in Oakland – August 24, 2016
Today makes two years since Mom died. I think she would have been very happy that a lot of her plants and clippings are thriving in my backyard, some of them in the very ceramic holders that she created in her own kiln.
The main impetus for traveling to NYC (which I was due for a trip to see my friends and daughter anyway) was the loss of my sweet friend Michael Demarsico as I mentioned in this blog earlier in the year. His husband had this celebration of life, so I don’t want to say that it was sad to go to his memorial, but it certainly was exactly as he would have wanted, down the last song that played and the snacks and venue that he chose. What a guy!
My daughter’s birthday happened to be around the same time, so of course I extended my trip and got to see many of the people I love and miss, as well as show Shando my old stomping grounds. I have a number of postings, but here are some of the random shots from the visit, including the trip to the High Line Park with my friend Carol.
I found out one of my good friends (and fellow Yorkie owner) from NYC Michael DeMarsico died a few days ago at the age of 44. I know everyone says only good things about those who have died, but he was truly pure to the core and must have had perfect karma, despite the tragic nature of the disease that took him at such a young age. He was a prolific writer and loyal friend and was survived by his husband and his dog Chloe. I cherish the long emails we had together over the past two decades and the countless coffees and social events I shared with him. I’m so glad I saw him on my last trip to NYC in 2014 (one of the pictures with Chloe is below) when he was already struggling with some of the symptoms of MSA, but he was STILL making jokes about it as he lost motor function. Every time I started to feel the tiniest bit sorry for myself when I had limited mobility this past four months I thought of people like him and so many others suffering, like the children of Syria and the refugees all over the world whose problems dwarfed my inability to walk without crutches. Now that I’m healing and I know I’ll make a full recovery, I hope to return to NYC for the celebration of his life in a month or so. I could only hope to be as genteel and brave as Mike was facing a painful and slow death head on. I’m sure he will be immortalized by his writing. It was at his behest that he not have a funeral but rather a party for his friends, which only demonstrates that he was a total class act. Rest in Peace sweet man.
