Francesco Musella 13 February 1936 – 3 May 2023

Giulia Monea

Nonno was always a very strong man, he had a very difficult childhood and a long journey to where he is now, I always admired him for his strength. But strong is polysemous, one word that described so many aspects of Nonno in so many ways. He would do everything with the utmost of "oomph" and force, like how he would quite literally throw Moser Roth Aldi chocolate at you almost so that you couldn't reject his generous offering, he would do this with money when I would cut his hair, with cards on my birthday, with biscuits in the oldest of containers over a coffee out of a not so clean cup, playing cards when he would lose at briscola or scopa, the list goes on. Nonno would have similar burliness when it came to petting Alfie, grabbing, or flicking his grandchildren's chubby cheeks or eating with (or without) his dentures in. He was tough, at the age of 86 he would still go out into his glorious backyard, rip up old weeds or plants and tend to his garden. He truly didn't know his own strength, but he's real strength lay in what he built with his gruff manner. Ripped up old weeds and plants, Nonno would turn into a thriving tomato vine. With biscuits thrown onto the table, Nonno would conduct conversation and create entertainment through his magnificent storytelling and joke deliveries. For every $20 note tossed at me after a haircut, the most wonderful smile would flourish across his face. In all his 87 years, Nonno was building. It took me a very long time to be able to cherish and understand what he built, but it all became so clear when I looked at this photo. Nonno was building the grandest basilica of happiness and love. When I look at this photo, these feelings simply overwhelm me. It reminds me of the joy he brought to me, my cousins, my nephews and niece, my siblings, my aunties and uncles, my parents and all the other smiling faces he inspired over his time. He was always full of wonder, would often question how he got so lucky, when we really didn’t tell him enough that we were the lucky ones. We were lucky to have experienced his wit, his generosity, his sock / sandal combo and most of all, his strength. I feel so blessed to have had such a presence in my life, it forever will be. With every rough pat on the back, with every gift thrown my way, with every biscuit paired with a coffee, with every game of napoletane cards, with every haircut, with every home-grown tomato or zucchini and with every single bite of that Aldi chocolate your presence will live on. Thank you Nonno for the happiness and love you nurtured in my life, I love you and pray that one day, I am strong like Nonno.