Daughter of Salvatore Joseph Giunta and Giuseppina "Josephine" Arico from Leone Forte, Italy. USO canteen volunteer WWII, met and married William Jensen Griffiths on October 5, 1946 and moved to Glenview, Illinois. Mother of Dennis Michael (1948-), Noelle Lorraine (1949-) and Wayne Anthony (1952-). Interred at Brevard Memorial Park, Cocoa, Fl.
It's taken me a long time to write what's below, and I'm not quite sure why - Mom and I were close, but I think so much alike that it confused issues at times. It's been a long time, Mom, and I still miss you every day.
Mom was a great baker, she could sew, crochet or needlepoint anything and she was smart as could be. She had the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen! You were the glue that held your generation together, Mom, and after you died everyone seemed to just go their own way. You handled everything for Dad, and we all thought he wouldn't be able to manage. He surprised us all though. But he never got over losing you. Your picture was the first thing he saw each day and the last thing he saw at night.
I can remember the day your eldest son came home from Vietnam, just a few days after Christmas in 1967. You worried every day of the 18 months or so he was there, and didn't know when he was due home. There was a huge snowstorm that day, and we got a call to pick him up at Kennedy Airport at 6 a.m. on a Sunday. You and Dad were so angry that we were going to drive all the way out to your home (30 miles or so) on such a terrible day. Dad was out on the driveway shoveling snow, and you were inside - the house was all decorated for Christmas. Dad saw the car pull up and threw a snowball at us, and when we started to get out of the car he used one of his favorite words to let us know how dumb we were to have come. And then when his eldest stepped out of the car he threw his arms around him and started to cry. As we all crowded into the house, you saw your Son first, and you cried and smiled for what seemed like hours. We were taking photos and you asked us to stop - I'm glad we didn't.
I remember your 50th wedding anniversary. You and Dad were out in Arizona visiting relatives and they were having a small luncheon for you in celebration. You didn't know it, but all 3 of your children were headed that way -- the look on your faces when we walked into the restaurant was absolutely priceless.
So many memories, and I can't believe you've been gone nearly 13 years and now Dad's gone too. I don't think any of us were big on the afterlife theory, but if by some chance...I know he's holding your hand.
It's taken me a long time to write what's below, and I'm not quite sure why - Mom and I were close, but I think so much alike that it confused issues at times. It's been a long time, Mom, and I still miss you every day.
Mom was a great baker, she could sew, crochet or needlepoint anything and she was smart as could be. She had the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen! You were the glue that held your generation together, Mom, and after you died everyone seemed to just go their own way. You handled everything for Dad, and we all thought he wouldn't be able to manage. He surprised us all though. But he never got over losing you. Your picture was the first thing he saw each day and the last thing he saw at night.
I can remember the day your eldest son came home from Vietnam, just a few days after Christmas in 1967. You worried every day of the 18 months or so he was there, and didn't know when he was due home. There was a huge snowstorm that day, and we got a call to pick him up at Kennedy Airport at 6 a.m. on a Sunday. You and Dad were so angry that we were going to drive all the way out to your home (30 miles or so) on such a terrible day. Dad was out on the driveway shoveling snow, and you were inside - the house was all decorated for Christmas. Dad saw the car pull up and threw a snowball at us, and when we started to get out of the car he used one of his favorite words to let us know how dumb we were to have come. And then when his eldest stepped out of the car he threw his arms around him and started to cry. As we all crowded into the house, you saw your Son first, and you cried and smiled for what seemed like hours. We were taking photos and you asked us to stop - I'm glad we didn't.
I remember your 50th wedding anniversary. You and Dad were out in Arizona visiting relatives and they were having a small luncheon for you in celebration. You didn't know it, but all 3 of your children were headed that way -- the look on your faces when we walked into the restaurant was absolutely priceless.
So many memories, and I can't believe you've been gone nearly 13 years and now Dad's gone too. I don't think any of us were big on the afterlife theory, but if by some chance...I know he's holding your hand.
Daughter of Salvatore Joseph Giunta and Giuseppina "Josephine" Arico from Leone Forte, Italy. USO canteen volunteer WWII, met and married William Jensen Griffiths on October 5, 1946 and moved to Glenview, Illinois. Mother of Dennis Michael (1948-), Noelle Lorraine (1949-) and Wayne Anthony (1952-). Interred at Brevard Memorial Park, Cocoa, Fl.
It's taken me a long time to write what's below, and I'm not quite sure why - Mom and I were close, but I think so much alike that it confused issues at times. It's been a long time, Mom, and I still miss you every day.
Mom was a great baker, she could sew, crochet or needlepoint anything and she was smart as could be. She had the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen! You were the glue that held your generation together, Mom, and after you died everyone seemed to just go their own way. You handled everything for Dad, and we all thought he wouldn't be able to manage. He surprised us all though. But he never got over losing you. Your picture was the first thing he saw each day and the last thing he saw at night.
I can remember the day your eldest son came home from Vietnam, just a few days after Christmas in 1967. You worried every day of the 18 months or so he was there, and didn't know when he was due home. There was a huge snowstorm that day, and we got a call to pick him up at Kennedy Airport at 6 a.m. on a Sunday. You and Dad were so angry that we were going to drive all the way out to your home (30 miles or so) on such a terrible day. Dad was out on the driveway shoveling snow, and you were inside - the house was all decorated for Christmas. Dad saw the car pull up and threw a snowball at us, and when we started to get out of the car he used one of his favorite words to let us know how dumb we were to have come. And then when his eldest stepped out of the car he threw his arms around him and started to cry. As we all crowded into the house, you saw your Son first, and you cried and smiled for what seemed like hours. We were taking photos and you asked us to stop - I'm glad we didn't.
I remember your 50th wedding anniversary. You and Dad were out in Arizona visiting relatives and they were having a small luncheon for you in celebration. You didn't know it, but all 3 of your children were headed that way -- the look on your faces when we walked into the restaurant was absolutely priceless.
So many memories, and I can't believe you've been gone nearly 13 years and now Dad's gone too. I don't think any of us were big on the afterlife theory, but if by some chance...I know he's holding your hand.
It's taken me a long time to write what's below, and I'm not quite sure why - Mom and I were close, but I think so much alike that it confused issues at times. It's been a long time, Mom, and I still miss you every day.
Mom was a great baker, she could sew, crochet or needlepoint anything and she was smart as could be. She had the most beautiful green eyes I'd ever seen! You were the glue that held your generation together, Mom, and after you died everyone seemed to just go their own way. You handled everything for Dad, and we all thought he wouldn't be able to manage. He surprised us all though. But he never got over losing you. Your picture was the first thing he saw each day and the last thing he saw at night.
I can remember the day your eldest son came home from Vietnam, just a few days after Christmas in 1967. You worried every day of the 18 months or so he was there, and didn't know when he was due home. There was a huge snowstorm that day, and we got a call to pick him up at Kennedy Airport at 6 a.m. on a Sunday. You and Dad were so angry that we were going to drive all the way out to your home (30 miles or so) on such a terrible day. Dad was out on the driveway shoveling snow, and you were inside - the house was all decorated for Christmas. Dad saw the car pull up and threw a snowball at us, and when we started to get out of the car he used one of his favorite words to let us know how dumb we were to have come. And then when his eldest stepped out of the car he threw his arms around him and started to cry. As we all crowded into the house, you saw your Son first, and you cried and smiled for what seemed like hours. We were taking photos and you asked us to stop - I'm glad we didn't.
I remember your 50th wedding anniversary. You and Dad were out in Arizona visiting relatives and they were having a small luncheon for you in celebration. You didn't know it, but all 3 of your children were headed that way -- the look on your faces when we walked into the restaurant was absolutely priceless.
So many memories, and I can't believe you've been gone nearly 13 years and now Dad's gone too. I don't think any of us were big on the afterlife theory, but if by some chance...I know he's holding your hand.
