Beatrice Depalma Lione (Grandma Bea) 1921-2013

Keith's maternal grandmother, Beatrice Depalma Lione, passed away on July 22.

Grandma Bea (or, as Keith called her, B-ma) was as quiet and reserved as Grandma Ruthie was irreverant and exuberant. On the other hand, as I discovered over the years, she had a sharp wit she used sparingly. It was the rarity of her humorous remarks that caught me by surprise and made me laugh so hard.

I have three favorite memories of Bea. The first occurred before Henry was born. Joe, Bea, Michael, and Madeline had come to Durham for a visit, as well as Linda and Tom. Bea joked throughout the weekend that I should not allow Linda to wear out her welcome in our home. In typical Linda fashion, she went upstairs and put on her robe and slippers, came downstairs and cried, "Look, Mom! I have my own room here! Keith and Meredith even gave me this robe and these slippers." I had never seen Bea be particularly comical before that moment. She dropped her jaw in mock horror, looked at me with a severe expression, and responded, "Keep the mother-in-law OUT."

One Thanksgiving several people came down with an awful cold/sinus infection. As we played Dirty Santa/White Elephant/Chinese Auction (whatever you prefer to call it), Grandma Bea sat wrapped in an electric blanket in front of the fire. When it was Erika's turn to choose a gift, she gently asked Grandma for her Williams-Sonoma lotions. Grandma Bea did not understand and thought Erika wanted her electric blanket. In a voice raspy from coughing, Bea choked out, "How about a cough drop?" I know you had to be there, but we all roared with laughter!

Finally, as we left Atlanta after Thanksgiving 2009, our first with Henry, Bea took me aside and said, "I've always loved Keith, but I think I love Henry more." While Linda was mortified, I thought it was a wonderful example of senior citizen honesty and a heartwarming expression of her love for our son. I will never forget it.

Henry, Linda, and Bea (cousins Kate and Madeline looking on)

As for Keith, he loves to tell me about how he played behind the bar in Grandma and Grandpa's basement in Carle Place, New York. As B-ma did her ironing, she told him about the party she was planning for her grandson "Archibald." Keith was presumably the party organizer.

He played running bases in B-ma and Grandpa Joe's backyard, a place that once seemed large but he now recognizes as small. I know that feeling. Being a child makes all our memories larger than they really were. But as one of my favorite authors, Tim O'Brien, would say, memories are more real than reality.

Joe and Bea took Keith to Braves spring training in Florida and made trips to Atlanta for birthdays and school activities, always remaining as present in his life as they possibly could from New York.

He remembers her frying dough on Christmas Eve, her sauce with meatballs, and her chicken parmigiana. Years ago I wrote to her, asking for her recipe so I could make it for Keith. In reply she sent a 3x5 recipe card, which she had put through her typewriter. After explaining how to pound the chicken and dress it with egg, flour, and bread crumbs, she typed the following:

SAUCE: I use home made sauce which is too time consuming for young people to make. Therefore, I suggest you buy bottled sauce in a super market.

The last time we spoke to Grandma, as always, she kindly but firmly asked Keith to put Henry on the phone. He joyfully told her all about the large black caterpillar with yellow legs we had just seen in our yard. She laughed as usual, even when she couldn't understand what Henry was saying, and her spirits inevitably seemed lighter. I don't think Keith will ever forget their last conversation.

We loved her and will miss her, until we see her again.