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Blogs by Russell A Vassallo
82 Years Young 4/27/2016 10:30:49 AM
April 24th. Eighty-two years ago today at 6:23 A.M. a son was born to Philomena Vassallo. He was not a healthy child from the first and, by the age of eighteen months, he suffered from a massive ear, nose and throat infection. In 1935 they did not have antibiotics. They were a thing of the future and the only remedy was to surgically remove the infection and hope for the best. As a child recall my mother holding me while they awaited the surgeon.
I survived the operation but lost some of my hearing and my lowered immune system kept me bedridden every winter for eight long years. It was a wonder I got any schooling at all. From that illness I learned to be alone, to be independent, to do for myself. There would never be anyone in my life I could rely on to be there.
In my teen years when I found interest in a young lady, my mother would hound the girl's mother because I had to be a lawyer and could not risk a marital entanglement. So for years I thought the reason girls broke off with me was because of my looks or something I did wrong. It was years before one girl told me what was really going on but by then the damage was so deep I never believed I could trust any female and I never believed I would have anyone in my life.
I could write a book about my life and perhaps one day I will but that is not the point of this blog. When God was giving our gifts, He gave me two. He gave me a long and interesting life and He gave me my wife, Virginia. She is always there, trying to convince me of her love, trying to undo the damage my mother did. The little things that say: I love you. the times when she should have walked out the door and yet she says she would have it no other way. The times I went to the hospital and she spent the nights on an uncomfortable chair. The feat in her eyes every time I was taken for treatment. The doctoring she did when I had cancer. The times she pounded me to take care of myself when life did not matter. When I think of my wife, I think of a tall reed in a summer storm. It does not break but simply bends.
How long did she try to prove her love? How long did I not see it? The damage we do as parents can last a lifetime. Mine ended with my heart attack because God opened my eyes to Him and to those who love me.
My stepdaughter, Heather, who started out by telling me she hated me, shared her most precious gift, her children, with me. Today I viewed a video of them singing Happy Birthday. yesterday I read their card where my little love, Chloe, expressed her love for me. We have that special relationship where we speak our hearts.
Slowly, ever slowly, the fog lifts and I see my life for what it was and what it is. I have a God who loves me. I have a wife who adores me. I have family who truly care for me. The shackles my mom imposed, though well meant, are slowly lifting and I am finally able to accept the love of those who love me.
