Monday, June 09, 2003
"There's that poem about pennies, about how they come from
people in heaven," Eileen Wan said. "About how you find
a penny, somewhere, almost every day. And how the pennies are a
sign from the someone in heaven who you love, to let you know
they're still with you. Whenever we find a penny, we say, 'It's
from Dude.'"
Eighteen months after her 27-year-old brother, Frank La Peruta,
died of lung cancer, Eileen, ever the big sister, isn't content
to look for little signs that Frank is watching over the family.
To honor Frank, who was nicknamed "Dude" as a baby,
she's created a Web site in his memory.
"I send out E-mails about Frank all the time," said
Mrs. Wan. "I want people to remember him, because I think he
is worth remembering."
Then there's the pear tree in her backyard that is adorned with
mementos commemorating the things Frank loved best -- the Jets,
the Yankees and Pearl Jam.
DUDE IN THE WIND
And there are wind chimes, lots of wind chimes, that dangle from
the tree's branches.
As we sit at her kitchen table, the sound of the wind chimes can
be heard through the screen door.
"When we hear the wind chimes, we say, 'That's Dude
talking,'" said Mrs. Wan.
But the love Mrs. Wan has for her brother is no ordinary sister
love. For during the last five months of Frank's life -- from the
time his family received the dire diagnosis in July 2001 to when
he died that December -- Eileen, who is a nurse at St. Vincent's
Hospital, tended to his medical needs.
Somehow, she kept his spirits up while being careful not to
sugar-coat the truth. She gave him hope, but not false hope. And
she never cried, not once, in front of him.
And that's the finest kind of sister love.
When he was told he had cancer, Frank, a plumber, was living with
his mother and father, Marie and Frank La Peruta, in Port
Richmond, where the family had moved from Brooklyn a few years
earlier. Mrs. Wan, 33, and her husband, Jimmy, had left Brooklyn
for Rossville with their young daughter around the same time.
"We were always close, growing up," Mrs. Wan said of
her brother. "It was just him and me. We did everything
together."
NAGGING COUGH
"It was June 2001," she continued. "Two years ago.
Frank had a cold and a cough that wouldn't go away. Finally, on
July 4th, he went to the emergency room. They took a chest X-ray
and they said he had pneumonia."
But the cough persisted and a series of subsequent tests revealed
that Frank had cancer. He had been a smoker, but had quit a
number of months before he became ill.
"It was advanced," Mrs. Wan said. "The doctors
were amazed at how advanced it was for someone so young. Surgery
was out of the question. So he underwent radiation in July and
August."
"He was accepting," Mrs. Wan recalled. He never said,
'Why me?' Sometimes, he'd try to make jokes about it, like saying
to God, 'You think you could have given me a broken leg if you
wanted to send me a message.'"
But in time, the conversations between brother and sister became
more serious.
"He told me certain things he wanted done," Mrs. Wan
said, her eyes welling with tears. "He said he wanted to be
cremated and brought back here, to my house, and that is what we
have done. He said, 'Bring me home. Let me stay with the kids.
Play the music I like.' We do that, too."
Frank's remains rest in a black marble box on a shelf in a
cabinet in the living room. There are pictures of Frank on the
shelf, too, and cards and the black sunglasses he was famous for
wearing.
"He would ask me things, and I would try to answer him the
best I could," said Mrs. Wan. "I spoke to him honestly.
He would say, 'This is really bad, right?' And I would say, 'Yes,
but you're getting treatment for it.' He would say, 'When you
die, do you think you live in a house in heaven or do you live in
castles in the sky?' And I would tell him, 'I think there are
castles, like in the song, and that everything is pretty.'"
BEING STRONG
"When he began to lose his hair, I could tell it bothered
him," Mrs. Wan said. "But I told him, 'It's very
fashionable.' Then I went into the bathroom and cried my eyes
out. In the end I said to him, 'It's going to be rough, but we're
going to go through this together.'"
Frank's mother, who works in a medical office, helped her
daughter care for Frank. Together, the two women ferried him to
appointments, looked into treatment options, got him the tests he
needed despite his lack of medical insurance and cared for him at
home as long as they could.
Two weeks before Christmas, Frank's condition worsened and his
family took him to the hospital, where he died.
On Christmas day, Frank's girl friend, Michele Mule of Brooklyn,
as devoted to him as his sister and mother, visited the family
with a gift for Mrs. Wan.
"Michele told me it was from Frank," said Mrs. Wan.
"Frank had told Michele, 'Would you please get this bracelet
for my sister, because I don't think I'm going to be home in
time.'"
The silver-link heart bracelet was from Tiffany's and, as Frank
had wished, was engraved: "My sister. My best friend."
Judy Randall is a columnist for the Advance. She may be reached
at randall@siadvance.com.
News article posted with permission. All Rights reserved.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Note from Eileen:
Wow, Talk about a surprise! My Mom contacted the
Staten Island Advance and had them come and do an interview with
me and Frank's tree.
The interview took place at my house on Monday June 2nd, 2003.
The picture was taken on Tuesday June 3rd, 2003. and by Monday
June 9th the tree made it's debut and became famous! I can't
begin to explain how it felt to do the interview.
It was hard to relive all the pain he went through, but it was
worth it because now everyone can see how special my brother was,
is and always will be.
You know there is a saying that goes "some people say you
are too hard to remember, but I say you are too precious to
forget."
That is exactly how I feel about Frank. That is what all this is
about. The website, the tree, all the e-mail updates, it's all
because I don't want anyone to forget. I want my children to
always have a safe place to visit with their uncle where they can
remember him. My website and my tree do this for me. Amanda is
big, so, she will remember alot but one of my biggest fears is
that Nicholas, being only 14 months old when Frank passed away
may forget him or not know him. What a tragedy, what a great loss
this would be for my child. With the website and the tree I can
help Nicholas to get to know Frank again, and for Amanda, she can
keep smiling while she remembers all the funny times with
"Dude".
I guess, I too need a place to visit my brother and to keep his
memory alive! I have so many memories. I catch Jimmy on the
website too, so I know he likes to remember also. As for my
parents, I hope that this is a start for them with the healing
process. I hope someday this website and tree will bring warmth
to their hearts by remembering all Frank was, and will put a
smile on their face.
All my family suffered a loss that cold December morning. My
aunts, uncles, cousins and all of Frank's friends and his
girlfriend. I hope that these things help all of us to heal a
little but I also want all of us to never, ever forget Frank,
"The Dude" <3
Thank you to the "Staten Island Advance" for this
beautiful tribute to my precious buddy, my brother.
A very special thanks to Judy Randall for the lovely story and to
Jan Somma for the great picture.