Don't Make a Fuss

Hello and thank you for stopping by. I'm not really sure how to start, so I guess starting at the beginning is as good a place as any. My name is Michael Versandi. Carol Versandi was my mother and this blog is dedicated to her memory. I wish I could say that this website was nothing more then just an online portal for friends and family to come together and share stories or fond memories. Don't get me wrong. It is - and that's what I plan on using it for, but it's also a plac

Out of all the posts on this blog, this is by far the hardest one to write. Today marks the one year anniversary of the day my mom died. February 1st 2014 seems like it was eons ago. And at the same time, like it just happened. It's still so fresh and painful, it doesn't have the luxury of being a memory. The fact is, I'm hard pressed to remember anything else that's happened in the past 12 months. The events of that day, not just the phone call, not just the shock and

I've mentioned that my mom used to call me, and more specifically, my general behavior "peppery". It was a polite way of calling me a "smart ass". And even though she wasn't always thrilled with my antics, she did know the difference between a "youthful indiscretion" and a "punishable offense". The following is a great example of this. And while it's not a great overall story, it does illustrate the type of person she was and how nobody, not even the cops, had the right to me

I've mentioned this before, but one of my mom's most prized possessions, was the dinosaur statue she bought back in 1971 off of an old Sinclair Gas Station that was going out of business. "Prized" is not really an accurate description. "Sacred" would be more appropriate. She loved this dinosaur more then anything else in the world, with the exception of her children. She always said "When I die, I want to be buried with the dinosaur!" And for the most part, she was serious. F

11 years ago, my wife Amanda and I rescued our dog Lulu from the Brookhaven Animal Shelter. Anyone that knows us, knows Lulu. We're a team. A packaged deal. In fact, she's more a part of my family then I am. She certainly gets more attention. That's for sure. Anyway, shortly after getting Lulu, we took her for a walk around the neighborhood. Getting her acclimated to her new environment. Giving her time to stop and sniff the roses. Both literally and figuratively. While walki

Well, it took me long enough, but I finally started attending grief counseling therapy. It’s something I’ve been wanting to do for a while, but due to various circumstances, haven’t been able to start until just recently. It’s a group session with other “adult children” who have recently lost a parent. So basically, we’re all in the same sad little boat. There are strict rules about confidentiality, so I’m not going to talk about anyone in the group or what has been divulged.

Today marks 6 months since I lost my mom. ….well, I didn't actually lose her. I mean, I know where she is in a physical sense. I mean she died on this day, 6 months ago. February 1st 2014. One hundred and eighty days ago. One hundred and eighty of the worst days of my life. I replay the events of that Saturday afternoon over and over again. Every morning when I wake up and every night right before I fall asleep. I hear the voice from the hospital every single day. "

This next entry is another one from my Aunt Terry. It's not so much a specific story, as it is a fond memory. I think sharing things like this…fond memories, small occurrences, a detail, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to be, are just as important as posting stories and pictures. It's the "little things" that make a person who they are. Sure, there might be bigger events that help to paint a picture of their life, but its the chapters that create the book. Wi

This next story comes from my lovely wife Amanda. She talks about something that I briefly touched on in my post "Dining with Carol Part 3" which you can read by Clicking Here. However. not only does Amanda give you a fresh prespective on what these little outings were like, but she does a much better job of describing my mom's little quirks and idiosyncrasies when it came to food. So without further ado, I give you..."The Newburg Incident". Mike and I started dating when I w

It's been almost 3 months since my mom died. …I say "died" because I hate the term "passed away". I hate anything that softens or sugar coats difficult situations or experiences. This has been hard enough to deal with as it is…and those that are close to me know that I'm not dealing with this all that well in the first place…I don't need delicate phrases or cushioned observations. "Passed away" sounds like there's a possibly she might be back. "Died" is about as final a sound