The matriarch of a family is the head of the family or tribe.
Recently, I lost my grandmother, whom we affectionately called Nonna, which means grandmother in Italian. She was the head of our large Italian family, and we always reminded her at family gatherings that without her, none of this would be possible.
She left behind two children, six grandchildren, and 14 great-grandchildren. She would always smile and throw her hands up when we said that. My Nonna was 96 years old when she passed away this past September, and she lived a long, beautiful, and full life.
During those years, she taught us all many important life lessons. She taught us that family should be the most important thing in our lives. She reminded us always to be available to each other and to check in with one another as often as we could.
You would always find her with her portable phone to her ear, chatting with a relative in Italy. She would always be laughing, trading stories, or catching up on the latest news. Sometimes, she would be waiting for a call and would stick the phone in her apron or even her bra! She would always call me and leave me voicemails, and I am so glad I saved all of them. “Nicola, how you feel? Tella everybodee allo from Nonna! Ciao!”
She showed us that comfort was love and that was usually in the form of food!
Fresh tomato sauce, handmade pasta, chicken cutlets, and lasagna were some of her favorite dishes to put on the table. She loved having everyone over, especially for Sunday dinners, and nothing brought her more joy than seeing her family together. And if she told you to have a second bowl of pasta, you’d better unbutton your pants and make room.
She also taught me that sometimes it was better to listen than to argue.
She was married to my grandfather for so long that she knew all the tricks. I remember the day she gave me that advice. She put her finger to her lips, shook her head, and said “no say-a nothing.” She reminded me in her own way to stay calm and breathe. She was always the voice of reason.
Without our strong, sweet matriarch, we are a bit lost right now, but each day gets a little bit easier. We are constantly reminded of the determined, strong, capable woman who came over from Italy on a boat with my nine-year-old father to make a life for her family.
She never faltered, worked hard, and raised a good family. She went to mass every Sunday, made friends with all of her neighbors on the block, and always went above and beyond for everyone. And she never forgot to slip you a $50 bill when no one was looking.
Recently, my father had to undergo a very serious operation. For one of his procedures leading up to the big surgery, he was assigned a nurse whose last name was Nonna. When I saw her name on the board outside his hospital room, I knew that was a sign that everything was going to be okay and that she would forever and always be looking out for her son.
I will never forget my Nonna. I was lucky enough to have her for as long as I did. I am so grateful that my three children got to spend time with her. I know she would want me to raise my daughter the way she was raised—smart, kind, capable, selfless, and generous.
To honor her, I will continue to live in a way that would make her proud, and teach my daughter the same values she instilled in me. She was the matriarch of our family, our rock, and we will never forget her.
In memory of Antonia Carlino – January 8, 1929 – September 6, 2025
