The Cheshire Grinning Moon

Lisa has found a place in the heavens from where she can encourage me and point the way.  When I ran my early races, it was so comforting to come to the checkpoint guides who reassured me that I was on course and not all alone out in the unknown.  Last night, on the drive home from her funeral, I noticed the waxing crescent moon - grinning at me from behind clouds.  It morphed and yawned, widened and thinned, always slipping in and out from behind clouds.  It was alive with the Smiling-to-me twinkle that gets my attention.  It dawned on me that it was Lisa.  It didn't "dawn" on me, actually.  That would be a Sun thing.  It ?Mooned? on me...or rose on me, waxed or gibbous-ed on me...in any case, it was Lisa letting me know she's in the best place imaginable, and already in touch.  After days of anguished tears processing the shock, the loss, the grief, the disbelief, we parted ways, her parents and me, to go on with our life.  We were together, intensely, for days as we said our goodbyes.  Sunday night, she suffered a massive heart attack and was without oxygen to the brain for too long to be saved.  An organ donor, she was sustained on life support for another 36 hours while the arrangements were made for the recipients.  We sat with her, watching her "breathing" on the respirator, all monitors in the ICU indicating normal activity in her body, but the brain showed no response.  Placid and beautiful, she hovered there with us, mostly gone, but standing by for a few final gestures.

Her fourteen year old daughter, Maria, came to hold her, grieve and accept the unimaginable.  On her Facebook page the night before, she had posted notice that her Mother was on life support, and asked for prayers.  Maria had "unfriended" her grandmother, me, Aunt Mayra and other adults, giving only her peers access to her postings.  Her young cousins, Marissa and Vinnie could only report to their mothers what they couldn't imagine was true!  Maria!  Tell us this is not happening!  But between phone calls and frantic messages, we learned too soon; Maria was posting: "Rest in peace, Mommy."

OMG!

Thus we processed and accepted, alternating between sobs and ok-ness, seeing the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the nurses busying about with the normal ICU activities, changing the IV, administering anti-biotics, checking vitals and emptying catheters for a body that was flushed with color and life as though with their care, she would revive.  Our hearts and eyes saw this ritual, but our minds knew she was already gone.  It was a see-saw of emotions; we intermittently chatted as visitors to a patient's bedside, only to be reminded she was not a patient as family members arrived, tearfully collapsing at the sight of her, so beautiful and placid, her long hair cascading across the pillow.  

Under the management of the Center for Organ Recovery and Education personnel, Lisa had transitioned to Donor.  Knowing her decision to give of herself so that others might live on gave her mother and dad comfort, and they respected her wishes.  Noble though it was, however, the questions of arrangements couldn't be made until the recovery surgeries had taken place.  So we marked in our journal that our beloved little girl was 

Lisa Jo Norelli Tosi 

September 19, 1971

January 22,23,24, 2012

To reflect that she had suffered a massive heart attack on Sunday night, was sustained on life support through Monday in accordance with the laws of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, Washington County and regulations of the hospital pending re-confirming neurological tests, and yet not declared "deceased" until 9:00 a.m. Tuesday, when those tests confirmed what no miracle could reverse.  We allowed ourselves to process by degree, finally and agonizingly. 

Didn't we just do this not six weeks ago when we buried our Mom, Helen?  The same Friends and Family members came to share their sorrow and respect.  Lisa had been at the bedside of her fiance's grandmother, caring for the 93 year old until she passed.  A few days later, her own grandmother came home and Lisa moved in with her folks to care for her through her final days.  Mom passed on December 4, and at her wake, Lisa hugged the very people who came to mourn her yesterday.  How much grief!  How could this be?  God be with us and comfort us.  Family in Faith, together, being there for each other.   

She was a young woman with a "take no prisoners" attitude and an astute awareness of a soul in  need of her help.  When Lisa Jo was around, we knew it.  Her voice carried with an unmistakable "Alpha" vibe that conveyed self-esteem and confidence, and at the same time, one that moved readily into laughter.  With her eyes and her tone, Lisa could make you wonder "What's got her so riled up?" and yet, moments later, she'd make a wry observation from the other side of the universe and with her eyes and her smile, whatever it was that she had just so passionately asserted, she was dismissing with amusement.

A little bit irreverent, a little bit the Classic Italian Matriarch, Lisa was the quintessential Big Sister who delivered her statements with authority and intensity and then might just as convincingly erupt in deprecating laughter at the situation and find the most innocent fun in it.

This little girl understood feelings and how people responded to attention and interest.  From an early age, she developed her relationship skills, burnishing an already intense drive to provide caring and comfort.  Adding to her nurses training, and practical understanding of healthcare, Lisa was a dedicated provider and advocate who thrived on helping others.  In the hours during which we kept vigil at her bedside, we came to accept, minute by minute, that her life was about what she could do for you.  Never caring for material things, Lisa found her bliss in results.  She manifested kindness to those who needed a bit of encouragement, a gentle touch, a reassuring promise and steadfast tendency to break into a grin, them bubble with a giggle that grew into a full-blown belly laugh at how just regular folk we all can be.

Today and for many years to come, she lives on in those to whom she bequeathed what was hers alone to give, her greatest gift, herself.  Her heart-broken parents, Ernie & Joe, navigated the hours of accepting the loss of their daughter with the realization that Lisa's life, as we knew her, has acquired even greater reach and dimension in those she has helped live on.  Her daughter, Maria, will always be able to hear her voice speaking to her from within: no greater champion can you expect to find.  Those of us who knew her will, no doubt, miss her loving greetings and affectionate "Good Byes" can take comfort in the happiness of those who awaited her in heaven who are now greeting her with open arms and a wink for our "too smart," sassy, Lisa Jo.  In a week when Heaven called home Etta James and Joe Paterno, a lesser-known dynamo made the grade and tapped the bell on her way through the gate.  To all her cousins, classmates, friends and colleagues who share our grief and sense of loss, I can only offer this comfort:  Lisa has taken her caring to the next level.  Thank each of you for affirming what a World Class Spirit she is and what an unfailing gift her life was to all of us.

Through the sadness of the week, the sense of something very nice coming was ever present.  Tara will have a little girl in a few months, as we learned the same day Lisa passed.  Michelle dropped her custody challenge and brought Nicholas to be with his Family during this difficult time.  Fran found her own way to the gatherings with a GPS and determination, and Mary Ellen and Cil came with courage driving them past the difficulties following Mom's funeral.  In Joe's newly-finished basement, we toasted Lisa, shed those final tears and prepared for life without her.

It was only on the drive home that I thought about the Cheshire Cat grinning from the tree branch, then the clouds, then through the roof tops at "Alis"  (Lisa with the A moved to the beginning) and I look forward to writing with you.  I know you would have made a great saleswoman.  I'm sorry we couldn't see that in time to intervene.  We let Maria catch the plane with Anthony to spend a week in Florida with Aunt Mayra, away from the pressures of her loss.  Her tattoo'd, pierced, bejeweled gay friends kept her distracted, but could not obscure Maria's realization of the mountain of floral tributes sent by so many to offer condolences.  She had enjoyed quality time with her mother and Nana during three days of recovery from surgery last week after which she withdrew from Ringgold and planned to enroll at Belle Vernon again, moving back home with Nana & Pap.  It was coming together.  But for now, something nice is making a pattern.  To prove it's impending arrival, it smiled to me through the night sky, saying, "Hi."  Remember Frankie crying to Nicole and Sammy that they're the Big Girls now.  They're not ready to be the Big Girls.  Smile on them, Cousin Lisa.  Point the way.