For my mom
“She deceased."
Confused, I didn’t know what the nurse was trying to say.
But it was his way of telling me that my mom had just died.
I don’t even know how to describe the moment. Surreal, I guess. Shock. Disbelief. What? Not sure what the next step would be.
It was 20 years ago yesterday, July 25, 2002, that my mom, Anna Burak, passed away at St. John Hospital in Detroit from a blood disorder. She was 68; I was 32. I was sitting in a hallway outside her room when I received the grim news. That’s when my world started to crumble.
I didn’t know how to process the fact that my mom was gone. I don’t think anything in life prepares you for that. It took me about two years before I started to feel like myself again, although I will never truly get over her loss.
Twenty years has been a long time to be without my mom, and I am writing this blog entry in tribute to her. I’m not writing these words to bring anyone down or for anyone to feel sorry for me. I just feel a calling today to write about my mom at this time. I loved her so much.
I am listening to the Supremes right now as I try to collect my thoughts. She loved the Supremes. Speaking of music, my mom also had a thing for blonde rock ‘n’ roll frontmen. She thought Roger Daltrey, David Lee Roth and Bret Michaels were hot babes. She once did a hilarious impression of Sebastian Bach. One of the best nights we ever had was seeing Rod Stewart in concert (fourth row) at the Palace in 1996.
There are so many things I want to say about my mom, but it’s hard to fit it all in a blog. But here it goes.
My momma Anna Marie (nee: Vagnozzi) Burak was born at 12:05 a.m. Sept. 25, 1933 in Detroit, Michigan. She always told me the story about how she was born in a house, typical in those days. When it came to official documents, including her driver’s license, there was a bit of drama. Because she was born just after midnight, the date of her birth always showed up as Sept. 24. But she was born on the 25th. She told me that story a lot over the years.
Anyone who knew my mom can confirm that she was a talker. My mom had the gift of gab. Because of that, she made friends everywhere she went: the grocery store, church, camping trips, the city pool. But even though she was a talker, Mom wasn’t a loud person. She didn’t talk over people. She was also a good listener, too. Even though she liked to talk, she heard what other people had to say.
Mom was, well, to put it bluntly, short. She stood 4 feet, 11 inches tall. She once told me that when she applied for a job, she had to include her height (not sure why.) She got so nervous when filling out the paperwork that she accidentally wrote that she was 11 feet, 4 inches tall. I remember her telling me that the man interviewing her laughed about it and showed it to other people in the office. She did not appreciate that.
“Buongiorno.” My mom was 100% Italian. She was bilingual, speaking both English and Italian. Her parents and older brother came from Italy. My mom always wished she had been born in Italy. She longed to visit Italy and finally got her chance in 1993 when she and my dad traveled there for a vacation. They went to Europe five times and saw many countries, including the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, France, Austria and Germany.
A graduate of Wayne University, she was a school teacher. In the 1950s and part of the 1960s Ms. Vagnozzi taught typing and shorthand at Northeastern (the big NE) in Detroit. That is where she met my dad, Vic, who was the boiler operator/engineer. (My dad died at the age of 89 in 2013.)
She stopped teaching for many years to be a stay-at-home mom. When I was a young child, I’d go to Kmart with her or to the library or the fabric store. In those days, I remember playing in the sandbox while she hung laundry in the summertime.
Every once in a while, she and my dad would go to a wedding or a dinner dance, and my grandma or a babysitter would watch us for the night. I would sit in the bathroom watching her do her hair and put her on her makeup, thinking she was so glamorous. She sewed beautifully and even made my Communion dress in 1978.
Was there anything she couldn’t do? My mom was an amazing cook. Her meatballs melted in your mouth, and I really miss her homemade spaghetti sauce, oatmeal cookies and Mexican dishes. When I was sick, she would make me orzo pasta. It always made me feel better. On Sunday nights, we’d curl up in the family room to watch “The Sonny And Cher Show” and “Alice.”
She was the best mother I could have ever asked for. We were superclose. Always. Even during those awkward teenage years. We did everything together. Lunch, movies, shopping. That woman loved Sears.
Another favorite memory is going to see the film “Ice Castles'' in the dead of winter at Macomb Mall. She loved “Three’s Company” and laughed so hard at Jack Tripper’s antics. She almost went into convulsions watching John Ritter in his role.
I wish she would have taught me more about men, but I guess I had to learn some things on my own.
Sweetness and kindness were at the forefront of her soul. She had a goodness about her that you don’t find everywhere. She loved her family, her nieces and nephews, and her best friends Diane and Toni. My mom was teaching at the Kellwood School when she died. She loved her Kellwood colleagues.
I miss her every, single day. I am so sorry she’s not here anymore.
I’ll leave it at that. God bless you all.
In harmony
Maria Allard
