I would enter the kitchen, the table would already be set with plates, napkins, and the requisite bottles of Snapple iced tea (only half a bottle for Nana). Sitting on the kitchen counter would be a pair of teacups just waiting to be used once dinner was finished. I would place the pizza on top of the stove and the frenzy would commence. As we ate we would watch the news, which always led to interesting conversations about whatever was going on in the city or the world. Nothing serious mind you, but we would tend to take opposite sides of the issue. All in good fun. The evening would end after we had a cup of tea, me heading off to the movies and Nana into her TV room to watch the evening's game shows.

These Friday meetings have provided many great memories, but they do not tell the whole story. There was so much more to her than pizza and tea. She was a woman of extraordinary faith, a common face at St. Patrick's church, which she attended daily with Papa. Following his death, and her lack of a driver's license (and desire to drive in general), she would attend Sunday Mass with one of her friend's who would also take her to the cemetery to visit Papa's grave after Mass.

This lack of a driver's license left her virtually trapped in her home. Fortunately, she loved that house and the memories it contained and never desired nor wished to impose on others to leave it. That doesn't mean she didn't have any wish to leave the house ever. Every Saturday she had a standing appointment to have her hair and nails done. So, each Saturday the hairdresser would pick her up on her way to the salon, while my mother would pick her up afterwards. There was also the weekly trip to Adam's Farm Market. There she would get the necessities, and the occasional pie (which are to die for).

None of this even begins to scratch the surface, they are just happy memories of who she is, but they do not truly convey who she was or what she means to all of her loved ones. How does one go about giving an accurate representation of a person's essence in words? Is such a thing even possible? Anything that is written is just words, it can give an impression, but it can never come close to touching the intangibles of what it is to be loved and to love, of what makes her so special to so many people.

She lived a long and happy life, spending all of her years in Newburgh, New York. Here she went to high school and business school. Here she worked at the local hospital, in the business office, until her retirement many, many years ago. Here she met and married WWII veteran Edwin Bell, who proudly served his country in the Navy. Here she raised three children who have gone on to instill her ideals, faith, and love in their own children. It was in Newburgh where she forged lifelong friendships with neighbors and members of her parish.