My mother, Santa Natalie Fichera, died Saturday December 14, 2013 in the early morning hours at the age of 88. She died after losing a battle with a suddenly rapidly advancing leukemia.

Her death, during the Christmas season, a time of joy and celebration, is poetic. Christmas is likely the reason why my immigrant Italian grandparents named their daughter, my mother, “Santa Natale.” And, Christmas is likely why my parents named their son “Joseph” and their daughter “Virginia Mary.” Christmas is about a family and it is intertwined with my family.

Losing both parents in the same year and in less than four months makes me wonder why, the same as Job asked God why bad things happened to him and all that he loved in the Bible’s Book of Job. But as it is explained to him, there is no explanation and we must accept what we don’t understand and move on.

Throughout her life my mother’s love was to be the advocate for her children, particularly her only son.  No detail about me was insignificant to her (Sometimes I loved this; sometimes I didn’t.) While it may seem cliche, the center of our home was the kitchen. Here, all things were discussed and decided.  And my mother was the kitchen’s master, our source of nourishment physically, emotionally and intellectually. She loved the art of conversation, even when others may not have been good listeners.  My mother taught me so much.

She was the youngest of four daughters of Natale and Angelina Finocchiaro who came to America from Sicily about 100 years ago.  She took care of her parents as they got older (both died in their late 80′s) as well as raised her family with her husband, Sebastian.  She made sure God was in every room of our house.  She decorated our home with our redemption in mind.  In each room there was a reminder of our Catholic faith, of Jesus, the saints, the cross.

While my father was the family’s consummate general, my mother was its commander.  She ran the house and was the savvy buyer of goods and services for us.  She expected that the family’s hard earned money would receive the value for what she purchased.  She made sure that everyone delivered on what they promised.  Whether they be a large department store or a local handyman each had to live up to her informed standards and scrutiny.  (We all have heard of “Consumer Reports” magazine today but she subscribed to it in the 1960′s.)  Few salespeople, service providers or others, if any, could win an argument with my mother about the quality of a product or about his or her duty to her to perform as promised or expected.

When I was younger, my mother worked as a hairdresser and, though she didn’t finish high school and her own father was illiterate, for her children she willed it to be, and made it be, a far different story. Her son and her daughter went on to earn Ivy League degrees with the son earning one from Princeton and from Yale.   She and my father made personal sacrifices for this goal and to give us opportunities they didn’t have. They always focused their love on their children with little attention to their own needs. The only exception was that my father’s one directive to me was to take care of my mother, the woman he called his “Doll” thoughout their 65 years of marriage.

Oscar Wilde said, “All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does, and that is his.”

With my father’s death in August 2013, my parents are now both at peace and reunited. There is much I still need to do to honor them. I don’t wish to burden friends at Christmas with my loss or sorrow; I only wish you will help keep me on the right path in the new year and for all the years to come.

In loving memory by her only son,

Joseph Sebastian Fichera

My father, Sebastian Joseph Fichera, died in August 2013.  Please see Sebastian Joseph Fichera

My father, Sebastian Joseph Fichera died today on his 93rd birthday on August 18, 2013

He was the only son of Joseph Paul and Ignazia Fichera who came to America from Sicily 103 years ago. Sebastian continued the promise of the American dream that brought his parents here. That promise allowed his father, my grandfather, a barber, to create a family, become a community leader and, upon his death, leave his children with a better life and even more opportunity than his generation and the generation before.

“Honor your father and your mother” is one of the Ten Commandments. It is a lifelong commandment, to be shown in deeds not just words… and it is to be done before and after their death. An obituary does not fulfill the commandment. Yet, let me share some thoughts with you about someone you have never met.

Sebastian Joseph Fichera was a gentleman in all senses of the word. He was also a gentle man, kind, never a harsh word though still a demanding person especially about education and devotion to family. He got a business degree from an extension of Niagra University in Rochester, NY in 1940.

He fulfilled his duty to family in a quiet, dignified and diligent way. His profession for 30 years was a bookkeeper. Math, precision, and organization were his specialties. A pen would always be in his shirt pocket–which could make him an early nerd. The devices that his son uses every day put him out of work. He retired in 1984 no pension, only savings and Social Security.

Sebastian was loyal to family, firm and country. He served in WWII, came back, married his sweetheart (whom he met at a basketball game when my mother was heckling my father’s cousin in the row in front of him), started a family and worked to support them.

He loved his wife, Santa Natalie, unconditionally for 65 years. They raised a daughter and a son. Each went on and earned degrees from Yale and the son an undergraduate degree from Princeton.

After his workday, he was an extraordinary fan of sports (particularly baseball) and an accomplished sports writer and commentator (before the crazies took over talk radio). That moment in the movie “Field of Dreams,” when the father asks the son to play catch, taps the emotion in me, as many others, of the bind between father and son and sports that begins with playing catch.

His belief in God and the Catholic faith were also absolute. The Vatican II council opened the possibility for laymen to participate in the Mass and he did so not reluctantly but with a sense of honor. Yet, he did not wear his faith on his sleeve. He simply lived it and gave everyone an example of a religious, caring man.

His courage, tenacity and endurance were not bravura but the way that most Americans simply do, day in and day out. He eschewed material possessions that his son tried to give him… except the large TV and new car to retire the 15-year old Ford Torino.

And he had the most essential evolutionary human trait of all! This trait is so critical to human survival that without it, mere cognition, reasoning and feeling would not work very well. He had a great wit and sense of humor – from the subtle to the profound. He would find moments to enjoy life – whatever life brought on – and make you laugh with his wit and charm. I remember once as a child watching my dad shave, he finished and turned to my mother and said “It is a shame that I wasn’t born rich instead of just handsome.”

When diagnosed with colon cancer, Sebastian made no complaints. He underwent surgery and survived. When 10 years ago, a terrible fall down a staircase led him to the hospital with such trauma that the doctors thought he would not recover, he did. Though it required him to live in a skilled nursing home for the rest of his life, he continued to endure and show his wit within a harsh system.

His support of his son was absolute, though the son sometimes didn’t seem to make sense as the son grew up from being an alter boy to activist in the 1960’s. When the son wanted to transfer from a Catholic high school to an inner-city school to show support for some cause, he could have stopped it but didn’t. He didn’t understand it but he had faith in the son. What a great gift to give!

His bottom line was to just have his children make him proud in whatever endeavor they chose. Never dishonor the family. Take care of your mother. Among the many things he taught, three sayings were to keep us humble: “I complained I had no shoes until I saw a man who had no feet.” “There but for the grace of God go I.” And “When much is given you, much is expected from you.”

Life’s a circle…each day a circle; each month; each year. We enter frail and dependent on those who love us and we leave the same way. We know this. We try not to think about it.

My father completed that circle today with perfect timing on his 93rd birthday. Now, each year on this day, August 18, I will remember his beginning and his end. Throughout his life, he taught those who met him lessons about kindness, hard work, honor, humility and humor. I will miss him and, as his legacy, I hope to honor him through the life he gave me.

In loving memory by his son,
Joseph Sebastian Fichera

My mother, Santa Natalie Fichera, died soon after in December 2014. Please see: Santa Natalie Fichera

Today, generations from the Greatest to the Boomers to Generations X, Y and Z, will sit together and share a meal reminiscent of when all the generations were just known as a family. Our country has many difficult challenges ahead. Thanksgiving began as the celebration of the harvest which was the hard work of the family. Let’s be thankful for what we have and mindful that each harvest requires the hard work of many.

Ralph Blaine wrote the poem/lyrics in 1943 but it touches us today/tonight/tomorrow:.. “Have yourself a merry little Christmas, Let your heart be light. From now on, our troubles will be out of sight. Faithful friends who are dear to us, gather near to us once more. Through the years , we all will be together, if the fates allow. Hang a shining star upon the highest bough. And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.” To all my friends and more, Merry Christmas.

The Emmy show just presented to the song “I Will Remember You” images of TV icons that have died this yr. It is a ritual segment we have all seen, a reminder and an awakening. Our generation has created a broader, deeper culture of celebrity and icons, than ever before; and w/ our new 24hr news cycle, the coming years …will be a constant reminder, in a way we haven’t experienced before, of our mortality and of change