Standing Strong

by Teresa Giudice

  Thank God a friend of ours who’s a doctor was able to get my dad a wheelchair because he needed it. There was no way he was going to be able to walk or stand through all that. They had him on an oxygen tank, too. Can you imagine? It was absolutely unthinkable, but I was just grateful that he’d been released. I don’t know what we would have done otherwise.

  Once that nightmare was over, when it came time for the funeral itself, I was in a complete daze. I honestly had no idea what was going on around me. The details are a blur. I was beside myself. Out of everything that had happened to me and to my family, losing my mother was perhaps the biggest shock of all. I expected to have another thirty years with her, at least. I needed her to be there for me and for my girls. And I couldn’t imagine living in a world without her in it. Who would I call a million times a day? Who would help me take care of my daughters while Joe was in prison, and even after he came home? Who would cook Sunday suppers with me? Who would be my rock? Who would hold us all together?

  I had so many unanswered questions. Above all, though, I suppose I just felt like it was unfair that she’d been taken away from us at such a young age, particularly when she had so much more to give. Again, I couldn’t help but wonder, Why me? What did I do to deserve yet another tragedy?

  Even though my mother had died, sadly, it didn’t mean that I could stop working. The Bravo cameras were there the day of the funeral, filming. They were very respectful and remained as far away as they could, in order to give us our privacy and space. I don’t remember being asked about it, but it didn’t bother me. I was numb anyway. My brother was happy that they were there. He made a good point in saying that, since we were so out of it that day, it would be nice to have it on tape so we could go back and look at it in a few months or a few years when—if we were lucky—the sting of losing her wouldn’t be so fresh. And we wouldn’t be as raw from the incredible pain.

  I believe Bravo is going to do a tribute to our mother on the show, as they did with Joe’s father, which is really nice. We think about our mom multiple times every day, so I think it’ll be special to have that experience documented, even though saying goodbye to her was the saddest moment in all our lives.

  I’d go to prison again just to have her back.

  The one thing I do remember about that day was that I was trying to be strong and hold it together for my kids and for my father. And, in a strange sense, for my mother, too. Because she was the strongest person I’ve ever known and I felt like she wouldn’t want me to be a mess on the outside, even though I was a wreck on the inside. That’s one way I am like my mother—I don’t like to break down in front of other people. I prefer to put on a brave face and push through.

  Not to mention that I wanted to be there for my dad, who was devastated. Since he’d just come out of the hospital that morning, he wasn’t himself. He was very weak. And, again, he was on oxygen and in a wheelchair. It was truly awful to watch, but nothing would have gotten in the way of my dad being there. He needed to see my mom and to say goodbye to his wife of forty-seven years. I can’t even wrap my head around being married to someone for that long. They were a part of each other. My parents were even more passionate about each other in the end than they were in the beginning. Now that’s a true love story.

  So, anyway, we went to church. Then from the church we went to the mausoleum. As a final goodbye to my mom, everyone released dozens of white balloons into the sky. I shared a video of it on Instagram set to Wiz Khalifa and Charlie Puth’s, “See You Again” with the caption: Clear skies all the way to HEAVEN for my Mommy. I Love You. #loveforamom.

  After the mausoleum we had a repast luncheon with our closest friends and family at an Italian restaurant called Spiga, in Totowa, New Jersey. There were appetizers, entrées, pasta, salad, and dessert. Lots and lots of food. That’s what my father wanted. He didn’t want a ton of people to come back to my house. It would have been too much.

  Everyone was trying to keep my father uplifted. His sister, Maria, came, which was really significant, since they hadn’t spoken in years. Her daughter and son—and my cousins—Rosie and Anthony came. Anthony’s wife and son were also there. We all put our differences aside for the day. It was like nothing bad had ever happened. We just picked up where we’d left off. Although Anthony’s sister—and my other cousin—Kathy Wakile (and her husband, Richie), who’d been one of the Housewives with me in seasons past, did not come, nor did her other two brothers. Kathy’s excuse was that she was in Florida. Can you believe that? How hard is it to come home from Florida? It’s so close, and the tickets are cheap. What are they, two hundred dollars? Come on. Kathy ended up stopping by when she got back. But, for me, that was too little too late. I was very disappointed. And, to be honest, disgusted.

  Outside of family, I’d asked Lisa G. to tell only my closest friends about the service, as I didn’t want my mother’s funeral to turn into a circus.

  Despite what people may think, I have a very small and tight-knit group of girlfriends.

  The two Lisas were there, Lisa F. and her husband and Lisa G. along with her mother and brother. My friends John and Kim were there. Rosana and Jackie. Rose and Leah and Robyn and Christina. Rino and Teresa Aprea also came.

  Lucilla D’Agostino, the executive producer of the show, along with Dorothy Toran and Jacob Huddleston, two other executives on the show were there. Jim and his wife, Rebecca. My makeup artist and friend Priscilla DiStasio. Siggy and her husband, Michael, and Dolores and her ex-husband, Frank. Danielle didn’t come. I think maybe she felt weird about it since we’d just become friends again. We’d only seen each other a handful of times. I wasn’t upset by that at all. I think she did what was appropriate, and I appreciated that she didn’t try to insert herself into a situation just to be on camera or because she wanted to see what was going on. If the circumstances had been reversed, I probably wouldn’t have gone to her mother’s funeral, either. So no judgment there.

  A lot of Joey and Melissa’s friends came, as did Joe’s entire family and many members of Melissa’s family.

  There were so many others who were there, each of them helping to ease the pain on this very difficult day.

  I couldn’t believe it when I looked up and saw Dina Manzo and her boyfriend, Dave, there. Dina later told me that she had called Jim and that he’d given her the information so she could book her flight out from Malibu. The fact that she flew all the way from California to be with my family on this day meant the world to me.

  Dina also posted this beautiful note on Instagram, accompanied by a photo of my mom and me. It really touched me.

  My heart bleeds for my girlfriend and her family . . . Teresa and I have been friends since we were 22yrs old. Over the years I’ve had the pleasure to get to know & love her beautiful mother. Such a warm yet strong woman. I had an immense respect for her as a woman, wife, mother and Grandmother. Often times in the height of the Real Housewives drama she would hug me extra tight goodbye and thank me for never turning on her daughter. She would tell me I was a “good girl” and much like my own parents I never wanted to disappoint her. I got to spend many special Sunday dinners with her while Teresa was away. She would always make sure I had extra salad or would jump up and boil more pasta because I didn’t eat meat. Just like a mama does. I’ll cherish those memories. ~May she rest easy . . . my girl now has the ultimate Angel watching over her in this most difficult time in her life.

  When I finally turned my phone back on, I had literally hundreds of text messages, voice mails, and emails.

  One of them was from Jacqueline Laurita.

  After all we had been through, it was nice of her to reach out, but I was happy that neither she nor Caroline showed up in person, even though they did come to the wake when Joe’s father passed away. I ignored Jacqueline’s text. It may have been a nice sentiment, but I don’t think that people should reach out at a time like that. I really don’t. If we’re not friends and you don’t speak to me on a regular basis, why touch base wh
en tragedy strikes? It feels so fake.

  I did ask my lawyer Jim to get permission for Joe to leave prison for the day so he could be there. The prison system allows that under certain circumstances. He was completely devastated when I told him about my mom; he cried hysterically. Joe adored my mother. If the funeral had been Wednesday, he might have been able to be there, but it all happened so fast that there wasn’t enough time to do the proper paperwork. I was okay with it, because—once I thought about it—

  I didn’t think it would help my kids. I figured it would be more emotionally stressful for them. I didn’t want them to feel like Daddy was out of prison and might be able to come home with us. So it worked out for the best. It was a hard enough day for them as it was, having to say goodbye to their grandmother. I told them all to write a letter to her, and we put them in her coffin. It was the first time Gabriella, Milania, and Audriana had been to a funeral. Gia had come when my father-in-law died, which was a lot because he had a full wake. Two hours, which was torture. I could barely sit there. I like the way Jewish people do it. Nobody has to see anything.

  My brother bought two spots at the cemetery. One for my mom and one for my dad, so, eventually, they’ll be together forever again, which is perfect. My dad goes to visit her every single day. I was going with him, and the kids, too, but on days that I’m working, sometimes it’s impossible to get there.

  My dad lives with us now. He came to stay with me immediately. We couldn’t let him live alone at first, because he was on oxygen. We would go pick up stuff for him, like his clothes and anything else he needed, and then one day he said, “I can’t live in that house without her. It’s too hard.” They had just recently moved there over the summer in order to downsize, but he said, “Even though there are not a lot of memories there, I still see her everywhere I look.” He couldn’t stay. And with Joe gone, it seemed like the best decision for everyone.

  Beyond the agonizing progression of losing my mother, I was also scared to find out what my life would look like without her. Sometimes when you’re so consumed by the course of losing a loved one—first they get sick, then their condition worsens, and ultimately they pass away—you don’t think about how you’re going to feel when the dust settles. When all the people stop calling and coming by, and things go back to the status quo. Only, it’s not the status quo as you know it, because one of the most major pieces of your existence is gone. Just like that.

  My mom was the glue that bound us. I’m not saying that fathers aren’t important. Of course they are. But mothers are different. I see that now. Women are stronger than men are. They just are. I see it with my husband. I see it with my dad. They can’t handle half the stuff that my mother could or I can. Women are pretty amazing.

  I still talk to my mom all the time. I’ll say things like, “Ma, please let Daddy’s nose stop bleeding so I don’t have to take him back to the hospital.” Or “Ma, please watch over us and make sure all the girls stay happy and healthy.” I believe she’s taking care of us from heaven. I know she’s up there smiling and laughing, and probably wishing she could reprimand me for a few things! I also know that one day we’ll all be together again.

  Of course I wish Joe had been around to support me—to support all of us—during such a heart-wrenching time in our lives. We hadn’t seen each other in so long, because I was in my own world dealing with my mom and my dad. I couldn’t go visit him. And I didn’t even want to. Nothing else mattered to me aside from my mother’s and father’s health. Plus, I had all the kids’ birthdays and activities. I was going to soccer and gymnastics and a bunch of Gia’s cheerleading competitions. I put my parents and my children in front of everything. Joe simply wasn’t my top priority—far from it. Not to mention that it takes a whole day to go see him, and my daughters were going with Joe’s mother anyway, so that worked out well. Even if I can’t get there, it’s very important to me that they can. No matter what my situation is with my husband, he’s the girls’ father, and they need to see their father as often as possible.

  To be honest, I don’t like going to prison, even just on visitation. I thought I was done with that! I don’t like being in that big room with everyone. I don’t want people looking at us or listening to what we say. I don’t need anyone else in my business. I was going to go see Joe after my mom died, but then they found contraband in someone’s room and the prison stopped visitations for twenty-one days. They punished the whole facility for one person’s crime—that’s how it goes sometimes. After that, there was another chicken pox outbreak, so they banned visitation during that time, too.

  By this point, it had really started to feel like we were estranged. I missed being hugged. I needed to be held. I needed someone there with me! I was there for him when his dad died, and I remember just caressing and holding him. I didn’t get that. I was taking care of my dad and my kids. I was responsible for all of us. And, the thing is, when everyone you know is grieving, there’s no one left to be there for you.

  But, as I always say, God only gives us what we can handle. I think God has been pushing the limit with me, though. Sometimes, I feel like screaming, “What the hell? I need a break. I want things to be good. I can’t wait for things to just be normal again.”

  There are still moments that, when the phone rings, I expect it to be my mom calling, because I used to speak to her twenty times a day. There are other moments when I think it’s going to be her walking through my front door. We were as close as a mother and daughter could be. She was like my sister and my best friend all in one.

  There came a point at which I got angry; the second stage of grief. I thought, Life sucks, because you get so busy and wrapped up with everything going on around you—your kids, your work, your friends, and the days just go by. Then you regret not spending more time with the person before they passed away. And, of course, in my case, I’d been in prison for almost a year, so that made it even worse. I could have been with my mom during that time instead. All I could think was, Why now? Why my mom? Why did she have to die? My kids lost their mother for eleven and a half months, their father for three years, their paternal grandfather, and now their beloved nonna was gone, too. Audriana is still having a tough time with it. She’ll start crying and say, “I miss Nonna.” It’s really hard to hear that.

  But, despite the searing pain, I do know one thing. My mother was proud of me and the woman I’ve become. All of her friends—anyone she spoke to—tells me that my mom praised me constantly. She lived and breathed for me and my brother. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that I wanted more time with her.

  I miss my mom every second of every minute of every day.

  Rest in peace, Ma.

  IN MEMORY OF

  ANTONIA GORGA

  October 20, 1950–March 3, 2017

  She always leaned to watch for us,

  anxious if we were late,

  in the winter by the window,

  in the summer by the gate;

  and though we mocked her tenderly,

  who had such foolish care,

  the long way home would seem more

  safe because she waited there.

  Her thoughts were all so full of us—

  she never could forget!

  And so I think that where she is

  she must be watching yet,

  waiting till we come home to her,

  anxious if we are late—

  watching from heaven’s window,

  leaning from heaven’s gate.

  13

  * * *

  LIFE GOES ON . . .

  The weeks after my mother died went by in a blur. All I really remember is trying to stay strong for my kids and my father, while stealing private moments to allow myself to cry. I’d never lost someone so important in my life—the most important person in my life, next to my children. It’s an experience I wish on no one. Not even my worst enemy. My mom had such a good soul. Everyone she interacted with loved her. But I needed her. I mean, I really, re
ally needed her with everything I was going through. And, just like that, she was gone. It was so fast. So gut-wrenching.

  I don’t always understand why God works the way he does. Or why he took my mother from us at such an early age, when she had so much life left in her and so much left to give. I kept thinking, I just want to talk to her one last time. I want to give her one more hug and one more kiss. I wanted that for my father, too. He didn’t even have the chance to see her or speak to her before she died, which I knew was eating away at him, even though it was probably for the best.

  We were all in deep mourning. And we needed something to liven us up.

  When I’d thought that my mother was going to pull through, I’d scheduled a trip for all of us to go to Puerto Rico, since we’d never made it to Punta Cana in December. I figured we’d finally have the chance to take the vacation we all so desperately needed. To be together as a family and just kick back and relax. As I mentioned, my mother loved, loved, loved the beach. She couldn’t get enough of it! Same with my father and with me.

  Even though my mother couldn’t come with us, we decided to go anyway. I knew she would have wanted us to. And, let’s be honest, we all really, really needed to get away and escape reality for a little while. So I took my girls, my friends, and my dad. I knew I had to do some filming for Real Housewives while I was there, but I’m used to that, so I didn’t care. I was just so happy to get out of town for a change.

  I wasn’t sure how the mood would be, given that everyone was still so sad, but I was happy that we all ended up having the best time. The resort was gorgeous and had spectacular views of the beach. We went snorkeling and kayaking. We rode Jet Skis® and went paddleboarding, which the kids loved! We even went zip-lining, which I was so freakin’ scared to do, but I overcame my fear and did it. I was super proud of myself and also of my girls for being brave. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that you need to be courageous, hold your head high, and take risks sometimes.