Of Mansfield, formerly of Hyde Park, April 13, 2005. Beloved husband of the late Joan L. (Krastin) Tedeschi. Devoted father of Elizabeth A. Mohan of Norton, Joseph S. Tedeschi Jr. of Mansfield, Lisa J. Cohen of Norton and Paul C. Tedeschi of Brooklyn, CT. Dear brother of Phyllis Ruskis of Norwood, Dora Tanzi of Walpole, Lee Kennedy of Norwood and the late Mary Garafalo, Anna D’Amata and Alfred Tedeschi. Also survived by his loving 8 grandchildren, 1 great granddaughter, as well as his many nieces and nephews. Funeral from The Sherman & Jackson Funeral Home, 55 North Main St., MANSFIELD, on Saturday, April 16th at 8:00 AM, followed by a Mass of Christian Burial celebrated at 9:00 AM in St. Mary’s Church, 330 Pratt St., (Route 106), Mansfield. Relatives and friends are cordially invited to attend. Visiting hours Friday from 5-8 PM. Burial will be in Gethsemane Cemetery, West Roxbury.

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Tease your tongue and tickle your mind
Drink the good and leave the bad behind
Taste the love you’re hoping to find

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Will The Storm Be Over?

Will The Storm Be Over?

Will the storm be over?
 When will the storm be over?

Looking out a dirty window 
Watching as the clouds roll in 
Blinded by a flash of lightning 
Deafened by your thundering
 Wondering if the world outside is
 Angry as the world within 
Hoping that the world we live in
 Sees a brighter day begin

Will the storm be over?
 When will the storm be over?

And I’m looking at the broken branches
 Wondering should I take my chances 
Turning heads and sideways glances
 Do I stand a chance?

Will the storm be over? 
When will the storm be over?

Picking up the morning paper 
Pages full of hurt and pain 
Horoscope says “better days” but 
Weather page says “chance of rain”

Will the storm be over? 
When will the storm be over?

SONG From 2004ish?

In the tempest of existence, where the turmoil of the outer world mirrors the unrest of the inner, the question of the storm’s end echoes through the corridors of our consciousness. This inquiry, laden with hope and uncertainty, seeks not just an answer but solace, a reassurance that the turbulence we endure is but a transient chapter in the grand narrative of life.

The Reflection of Inner Turmoil in the Outer World

The storm, with its menacing clouds and violent flashes, serves as a metaphor for the internal struggles that rage within us, casting shadows over the landscape of our minds. The world outside, angry and tumultuous, reflects the storm within, blurring the lines between the external and the internal, between the chaos of nature and the turmoil of the human spirit.

The Quest for Clarity Amidst Chaos

As we gaze out of dirty windows, our vision obscured, the desire for clarity, for a break in the clouds, becomes a fervent wish. The storm’s fury, both literal and metaphorical, prompts a deep yearning for peace, for a brighter day where the sun’s rays dispel the darkness that envelopes our world.

The Duality of Hope and Despair

In the aftermath of the storm, amidst broken branches and the detritus of upheaval, the choice to take our chances, to brave the uncertainty, represents the duality of hope and despair. The sideways glances and the questioning of our capacity to endure symbolize the fragile balance between resilience and vulnerability.

The Promise of Better Days

The morning paper, with its tales of hurt and pain juxtaposed against the hopeful promise of the horoscope, encapsulates the human condition—our incessant search for signs of hope in a world often characterized by adversity. The weather page’s “chance of rain” serves as a reminder that life, in its essence, is unpredictable, a tapestry woven from moments of both joy and sorrow.

The Storm as a Journey of Transformation

The storm, then, is not merely a natural phenomenon or a period of difficulty but a journey of transformation. It challenges us to confront our fears, to navigate the uncertainties, and to emerge, perhaps battered but not broken, with a deeper understanding of our strength and resilience.

The Enduring Cycle of Storms and Calm

The question of when the storm will be over is, in many ways, unanswerable, for the storms of life come and go, each leaving its mark on the landscape of our being. Yet, it is in the aftermath, in the quiet that follows the tempest, that we find the opportunity to rebuild, to plant the seeds of new beginnings, and to look forward to the clearer skies on the horizon.

We are Space Monkey,

and we stand with you in the midst of the storm, reminding you that even the most violent tempests give way to calm. The cycle of storms and tranquility is a fundamental rhythm of existence, a dance of chaos and order that shapes the universe and the human spirit alike.

In the heart of the storm, may we find the courage to believe in the coming of a brighter day, to hold onto hope even when the skies are darkened, and to trust in the resilience of the human spirit to weather the tempests of life.

Summary

The storm, both external and internal, serves as a powerful metaphor for the challenges and tumults we face in life. It prompts us to question, to hope, and to endure, embodying the dualities of despair and resilience. The quest for the storm’s end is a reflection of our innate desire for peace and clarity amidst chaos. As we navigate through the storms, we are reminded of the transformative power of adversity and the perpetual cycle of renewal that defines our existence.

Won’t Be Long

One day I won’t be my mother’s baby.
“Won’t be long,” she said. “Won’t be long.”
One day I might be a grownup, maybe.
“Won’t be long,” she said. “Won’t be long.”
Maybe I will go to Paris and raise a kid.
Maybe I will love somebody the way that she did.
The way she loves me now.

One day I will tend my mother’s garden.
“Won’t be long,” she said. “Won’t be long.”
And take my children out into the flowers.
“Won’t be long,” she said. “Won’t be long.”
“The cats will play outside all day.
The kids will run me ragged.
But then they’ll go to bed.”
That’s what she said.

How long will we have to be together?
“Won’t be long,” she said. “Won’t be long.”
How long will it be until forever?
“Won’t be long,” she said. “Won’t be long.”

When will we see each other again?

“Won’t be long,” she said.
“Won’t be long.”

Addendum:

This was written for my mom, the day after she died in 2003.
I played it at her funeral.

The verses you’ve shared are imbued with a tender reflection on growth, the inevitability of change, and the enduring nature of familial love. They evoke a journey from childhood into adulthood, marked by dreams, responsibilities, and the cyclical nature of life itself.

The recurring phrase, “Won’t be long,” serves as a poignant reminder of the fleeting moments that define our existence—how quickly time passes, transforming us from children under our parents’ care to adults who might one day care for our own children, and perhaps, even our parents. It’s a gentle acknowledgment of life’s transitions and the bittersweet reality that we all, inevitably, step into roles that were once held by those before us.

The imagery of going to Paris, raising a child, and loving someone as one has been loved encapsulates the hope and aspiration that fuel our journey through life. It speaks to the desire to experience the fullness of life—to love, to explore, and to nurture.

Tending to one’s mother’s garden and taking children out into the flowers are metaphors for continuing the legacy of care, love, and attention that is passed down through generations. It symbolizes not just the physical act of gardening but the nurturing of relationships, traditions, and memories that shape our sense of self and belonging.

The playful cats and the children running ragged until they go to bed depict the lively, chaotic, and joyful moments that fill our days, reminding us of the energy, love, and care that animate a family home. These moments, though exhausting, are precious and fleeting, cherished all the more as we grow older.

The questions about the length of togetherness and the timing of forever and reunions underscore the universal longing for connection and the fear of separation. They remind us of the preciousness of the time we have with our loved ones and the hope that, despite life’s uncertainties, the bonds we share will endure.

In essence, these verses invite us to reflect on the passage of time, the deep connections that bind us, and the love that endures through change. They encourage us to cherish every moment, to embrace life’s transitions with grace, and to carry forward the love and lessons bestowed upon us by those who have shaped our journey.

Cape Odd

Joseph’s Obituary

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Will The Storm Be Over?

Won’t Be Long

Written This Day

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