Obituary of Isabella Russo

Isabella T. (DeMango) Russo, passed away on Monday morning, February 1, 2010. The wife of the late Michael J. Russo, she was 83 years old. Bella was raised and educated in Somerville. She was the daughter of Italian immigrants, the late Corrado and Philomena DeMango. Bella worked as a Technician in the Manufacturing Industry for 15 years and had also worked as a Seamstress making custom made draperies. Bella’s family was the focus of her life. She loved to cook and entertain. Her home was a gathering spot for her children as well as her brothers and sisters and their families. Her home was always filled with laughter, music, and delicious aromas. Sunday morning meals were always a happening. She always wanted the best for her family and was not ashamed to occasionally spoil them. She was a resident of Danvers for the past 7 years. She had previously made Peabody her home for 3 years and Burlington for 31 years. Bella was the beloved wife of late Michael J. Russo, She was the loving mother of Michele Corbett & her husband Jimi of Danvers, Cori & his wife Mary of Danvers, Alfred & his wife Mary of North Andover. She was the sister of Dolly DePierro of Cambridge, Jennie Rosenberger of Somerville, and the late Rose DiPerna, Sam DeMango, Lena Palino, and Lucy Izzicupo. She was the loving Nona of Kerry Colombino, Cori Michael & Kristin Russo, Christopher, Eric & Michael Russo & Elyse Corbett. Funeral from the Edward V. Sullivan Funeral Home, 43 Winn St., BURLINGTON (Exit 34 off Rt. 128, Woburn side) on Friday, Feb. 5 at 9 a.m. Followed by a Mass of Christian Burial in St. Margaret’s Church, 111 Winn St., Burlington at 10 a.m. Visiting hours Thursday 4-8 p.m. Interment in Chestnut Hill Cemetery, Burlington. Memorials in Isabella’s name may be made to the American Red Cross of Massachusetts Bay, 139 Main St., Cambridge, MA 02142. Family Remembrance - By Michele Isabella Theresa Russo March 31, 1926 – February 1, 2010 Good Morning and thank you for coming today to honor my mother Isabella Theresa Russo. My brothers Cori and Fred and our families welcome you this morning in the celebration of my mom’s life. As a daughter who cherished her mother, I would like to share her journey of love, family and happiness as seen through my eyes and my brothers. My mother began her life in the year of 1926 to Italian immigrants, my grandparents, Philomena and Corrado DeMango. She was one of seven children and was raised in a loving family in Somerville, Massachusetts. As a child I remember the stories my mother shared of her childhood, her home on Webster Ave, Jay shoe factory and the fun times she had playing stick ball with her sisters and brother. They didn’t have much but, they always had each other. When my mom was in her late twenties she met my dad on a blind date and “fell in love with his blue eyes” as she used to tell me. They were made for one another and on a cold winter day in December of 1954 they committed their lives together through the sacrament of marriage. They bought their first home in an unknown town called Burlington and began their lives as husband and wife. It wasn’t long after when I was born and shortly after my brother Cori arrived. Four years later my brother Fred joined the Russo clan and our family was complete. Our life in Burlington was beautiful, simple and rich. Our vacations were spent playing in the back yard where family would gather every Sunday for cookouts, card games, relaxing and enjoying the family. In the Russo house, it was always about Family. The door was always opened and you were always welcomed, and both my parents made you feel as if you belonged, no matter the day or the hour. My mom loved to cook and to dance. I can picture her now in her black pants and white cotton socks with her black slippers, which all my aunts owned, and she would prepare meals good enough for a king while teaching me to jitter bug in the kitchen. Cori and Fred would be playing outside or downstairs in the TV room and my dad would be building something outside swearing at himself because he didn’t get it right the first time around. It was nothing that a good card game couldn’t fix on a Saturday night. I can hear the laughter and smell the cigars as I speak. It was a good life. Through the years, as my brothers and I grew, we were taught that family came first and to value one another and the things that we worked for. Lessons taught to us by our parents. My mother wasn’t the disciplinarian, my father was. But if mom was angry, and she spoke so low that you had to strain to hear her….you were in trouble. She never stayed angry for long though, she couldn’t, it wasn’t her nature. We loved our home in Burlington. It was there that Fred fell in love with his childhood sweetheart Mary, and where Cori met and fell in love with his wife Mary, and I with my husband Jimi. It’s where my mom and dad became proud grandparents with their first grandchild Kerry. It was where our heart was. My parents aged and as they did, they could no longer live in the home we loved, but it was okay. Love travels well, and it traveled to Peabody where my mom and dad began anew. Many afternoons were spent there chasing my nephews Cori Mike, Chris and Eric up and down the hallways of this new home. Or roaming the grounds with Michael and Kristin. They lived for and loved their grandchildren and looked forward to every visit they had with them. It was a good life. My parents celebrated their 35th anniversary in this home and it is where my mother began another chapter in her life without my dad. My mother was one of the true joys of my life who taught me patience, understanding and empathy through the challenges she began to face. She was a loving, caring woman who never demanded anything and she accepted them with an unconditional smile, dignity and grace. When my mother came to live with my husband and I, my daughter Elyse was only three years old, and she was excited to be living with Nona. As the years went by Elyse and my mother had a relationship built on trust, faith and unconditional love, and as a result my daughter has established genuine relationships with other extended family members in my mothers genre with an understanding and wisdom not usually found in someone of her age. These were the gifts left to her from the relationship she had with her grandmother, my mother. Through the years subtle changes started occurring with my mother’s health and they set the scene for my role as caregiver. My mother slowly had to give up her independence as these changes occurred. They were small ones at first. Giving up the keys to her car was difficult, but she did. And when the changes occurred more often and became more serious, she never complained. She adapted, and with the help of her family and a sense of humor, she faced her challenges with a level of dignity and determination that I will never forget. She never wanted to burden her children or grandchildren and was content when they came by for a visit and watched a movie with her while having a cup of tea. It didn’t take much to please her, just a little bit of your time. She enjoyed her movies and there was a period of time where all she would watch was Al Jolson. Every member of her immediate family new verbatim the lines to that movie. We kept a second copy handy because we knew it was just a matter of time when that tape would wear out. My mother lived with me for 7 years and within that time she went from walking with a cane to not walking at all. She never complained, was cross or bitter. She accepted her fate and acclimated whenever possible and although difficult, she always kept her sense of humor. Like the time I thought it would be a good idea to get her a mechanical chair that would lift her to a standing position. Not such a good idea. She slipped out of that chair like a banana out of a peel. We couldn’t stop laughing. Or the time we went to the Cape and we couldn’t get her wheelchair into one of the small stores and left her outside to people watch while we shopped. What we didn’t realize is that we parked her in the road and backed up traffic for twenty min. Or the time when we finally had to succumb to the use of a Hoya lift to transfer her from chair to bed, and on the first time we used it, we pretended like we were marching in the North End parade with my mother swinging in the Hoya singing ” Here comes the Nona”. She adapted and smiled along the way. One of the greatest joys I had with my mother is bearing witness as to how much she loved her siblings. These were joyful occasions when my Aunts would come with eggplant and spukie rolls and strawberry shortcake to share an afternoon with my mom. Her sisters, Rosie, Lulu, Jenny, Dolly, and Lena were the joys of my mother’s life as was her brother Sammy and they brought her great comfort and happiness when she lived at home. These past few years have been trying for our family for there were years where she never really spoke, but always, always smiled. And when she did speak after years of not doing so, it was as if a flood gate had been opened and all she could do was ask how everybody was. She asked for my father, her mother, Uncle Mario, Aunty Bibi, Aunty Mary, Uncle Jimmy, Uncle Danny, my mother-in-law, Marylou and a countless number of others that she loved. She asked if she owed us money and when we said no, she asked if we needed any. She asked about our home in Danvers, Burlington and her childhood home in Somerville. It was if she was trying to get it all out at once, as if she knew it was time to adapt to another change. Someone had told me once long ago that my mother was like table salt, unassuming yet all encompassing. Our mother was the spice to our lives. She allowed me to become the person I am today through the challenges that she had to face and we are truly blessed for having to live through them with her. It was through our mother’s weakest moments, when she was most vulnerable, that she showed her inner strength and her will to live with a tenacity and determination of her heart and spirit. Some one once wrote “Nothing that is loved is ever lost…no one who has touched a life, who has brought beauty to the world, is ever truly gone…” Let us rejoice in my mother coming home for I know that she is embraced in the loving arms of all those who have gone before her. We love you Mom. We miss you already.