Leaura Natalie

Materassi- Eaton

Leaura N. Materassi-Eaton, born December 2, 1941, in New York, New York  to her parent Audrey Douglas Holzendorf-Henson and Henry "Buck" Holzendorf and deceased July 11, 2021 in Melville, New York is a survived by her only child Marco Materassi, his wife Cheryl Materassi and their three children Hannah, Cristian and Mia, and by her loving cousins Candace and Mark Lindquist, Paul Lewis, Charmen Douglas-Pinkard and Bernard Douglas, her uncle Leroy Douglas, his children Lory and Leon Douglas, her Aunt Eldra Douglas-Jude and her children Michelle Singletary and Leslie Douglas and a host of nieces and nephews.

My Love Letter to you Mom:

What an incredible and loving journey has this been.   We started out together when I was in your belly, safe and sound, probably wondering when I was actually going to get to meet you.  But then something unexpected happened.  You were shopping in the Mercato Centrale of Florence, and from what I understand you were heading to the "pescaiolo" (that's Italian for fresh fish guy) to buy something for dinner for you and Babbo but perhaps in your rush to get everything done in time you somehow slipped on the wet stone floors of the market and fell.  Well after that there was no keeping me inside of you, I was ready to be born, a month too early, but I was ready finally to meet you.  You gave birth to me in the morning hours of May 20, 1966 at Careggi Hospital in Florence.  Despite my eagerness to see and touch my loving mother, the doctors said I was not very healthy.  They said I had many issues and there was not much they could do.  They said quite literally that my life was in God's Hands, which as dismal as that may sound was actually all that you needed to hear.  Because see you and God had a special relationship.  And you just knew that if you prayed and prayed and prayed, the Lord would deliver to you a healthy baby boy.  So that's what you did you went to the Chapel and you prayed and God lifted me from a sickly little thing into the healthy, plump little cherub you always knew I would be.  And that act of faith and prayer and love that literally twice brought me to life became the very thing that defined you for the your entire life.  Love.  You are pure and simple love.

Now losing you has caused me to reconsider meaning of certain phrases, for instance, they say that I am an only child.  And yes in one sense, biologically, yes that is true.  But that love you had for me was not just for me.  It was a starter.  Because I can think of a lot of people who you have loved and whose lives you have touched in immeasurable ways who also get to call you mom.  These are my adopted brothers and sisters people who you felt for and formed a deep connection with and who you loved and tried to provide for as best you could.  I think of Ilana, may God rest her soul.  I think of Kebra.  I think of Ari who is more punctual with calling you on major holidays and birthdays then I have ever been.  I think of Jonas who is suffering through losing both his mom Ilana and you in the same year.  I think of Kenyatta and Poppy (little Ronald), who were my shadows as a child and who could think of no better place to spend a Saturday night in pajamas then Aunt Leaura's.  I think of Khalil and Jalen, who you were there to witness come into the world with their mom Naelah and grandma Barbara.    You would tell me stories about them as if they were your own.  And I know this is the short list.  Because there also the countless children who you dedicated five decades of your life to educating and mentoring and protecting in ways that the system would not otherwise have permitted.  They too were your children and they were and are your life's work, fighting to bring better access to educational resources, to have properly trained teachers, principals and other administrative staff, fighting to keep political and economic "stakeholders" at bay so the children could get every dime they were meant to receive from local state and federal and private funding sources.  Fighting for equity and justice for the all too often forgotten and overlooked inner city kids of America's urban centers:  New York City, Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit, and a city that should be a state, Washington D.C.

You know who else you loved … you loved my children: Hannah, Crisitian and Mia.  The fact that they happen to not be my biological children meant literally Nothing to you.  You saw them as your grandchildren.  You asked about them every single day.  If there was an issue with a teacher or a principal you were on the phone with Cheryl with the kind of poignant and powerful advice that only you could deliver.  You never demanded that they call you "grandma" because you knew that those names can be confusing and meaningless as long as your actions spoke love.  And the kids knew it and love you all the more for it.

And then there were your "sisters".  I'm talking about the women with whom you shared a deep deep respect, admiration and love, like Zella and Barbara, two women that could not have had been more important to you and your life and who in turn, especially in Barbara's case became like moms to me.  Because your love always pushed outwards and back around.

Your love embraced your cousin Candace Lindquist, who by the way was the first woman I ever proposed to at the ripe age of 6 and your niece, Charmen, whose professional exploits outdid anything I could ever whip up and you were so so proud of her and you loved them and their children dearly.  And then there was you nephew Bernard who could do no wrong in your eyes and who always came too Thanksgiving to actually help and not just eat.   You loved him so much.

There were your other sister's too.  I like to think of them as your partners in crime because unbeknownst to you, but known by me Kenyatta and Poppy, I know you guys had some great times together and those are my Aunt Sarah and Aunt Phyliss.  And whether we were all hanging in Lenox Terrace or Esplanade Gardens or on 96 ^th Street or running around Harlem or Jersey or wherever – the guys, us kids, we knew you all were having a good time and rightfully so.  And as life stretched us all apart, you guys kept tabs on each other and never missed a beat in loving each other.  And of course there was Suzanne who has been at your side practically your entire life as a dear and loving friend.

And then of course there was your mom, my grandma Audrey, the most fine sophisticated woman I had certainly ever laid eyes on who you loved ever so passionately.  You two may have had your moments like all mothers and daughters (many of them over her spoiling me or covering for some naughtiness I had concocted) but she was your North Star.  She was the shoulder you cried on when nobody in the world was meant to see you crying and most importantly your son.

Did I mention that you never let me experience the pain of seeing you cry – not once in my entire early life – you went through two divorces which I know now ripped through you like salt on a deep open wound – but not once did you expose me to your pain.  Because you knew that I loved you too much and you knew seeing you in pain would hurt me.  So you took all of those bottled emotions somewhere else – and that somewhere else was in the arms of your mother Audrey.  And I found this out only because of a slip of the tongue of another person you loved fiercely – and that was Grandpa Harry.   Now I know you loved Grandpa Buck my biological grandfather.  But he was a difficult and complicated man.  In fact, he was the first man I ever fought.  Yup I fought him over you.   Because one day when I was turning 4 I believe you two had a bit of a discussion over a certain bicycle that had been purchased for my birthday.  Apparently, I did not like something Grandpa Buck did or said to you and I started punching him and kicking him in the shins to protect you.  Well that apparently solved the problem because Grandpa Buck saw the little fighter in me and saw himself in me and realized that what I had done was exactly what HIS grandson would do .. so he picked me up and took me downstairs to the yard in Esplanade Garden and proceeded to teach me how to ride a bike.  Now for those of you who knew me in me 20s, 30s and 40s that was the first but not the only time people realized I was "Buck" incarnate, and I'll leave the rest  that at that.    I will say this though – Granda Buck was not the last man I fought or attempted to fight over you.  Yeah there were all those guys that thought that somehow it was ok to "honk" at you while we were driving.  I mean what were they thinking – in two seconds flat I would be out of the car punching on some scared dudes window and traffic would be stopped and you'd be pulling me back in the car … or yeah fun times …  but from my perspective from the age of 4 on you literally did not want to mess with my momma.

But I digressed from talking about Grandpa Harry.  Now I know you loved Grandpa Harry in a different way because he is literally the only man you ever listened to in your entire life.  He had this way of disarming the fierce independent woman you had grown to become and turning you into a little adoring daughter.  Maybe it was his gentle way, maybe it was his surprise visits with dresses freshly acquired off the back of a truck parked in the Fashion District, maybe it was his way of always always being there when we needed him or maybe it was his ever so special love for me, but man he won you over like no other man ever had or could.  You were puddy in his hands and y'all both knew it and for me it was beautiful to watch and grow up to.

Last but by no means least I have to talk about your love for my one only Cheryl.  Now Cheryl and I met late in life and by that point you had been treated to more than any mother's fair share of shall I say misguided choices for a better half.  And you for the most part I have to say left me to my own devices,  stayed neutral and pretty much let nature take its course meaning you let me realize on my own how badly I was screwing up.  Until I met Cheryl.  And when I met her and introduced you to her she had the same effect on you as she did on me – it was instant love.  You knew right from the start what I knew that I had finally found a person who would take care of my heart they way you deemed it worthy and necessary.  You supported our unconventional courtship, love affair and marriage like nobody else in this world.  You found in Cheryl a daughter you never had.  You stayed up in our business worrying about our happiness and the kids lives and happiness like nobody else ever could.  Not a day went by when you weren't calling and asking about everyone or trying sending us food or buying a gift card.  When Hannah's sweet 16 came around even though I know you weren't feeling well at all, you summoned all of your strength and joined us to celebrate.   You called Cheryl your little energizer bunny  because she is literally the only person who might have had more energy than you.  She would show up on your doorstep at some crazy early hour of the morning to plant flowers and then do 16 other errands before I even got up.  You loved her energy and positivity and you were so proud of the things she accomplished in such a small amount of time to help turn around and grow our title insurance business.  She cut your hair for you, she shopped for you.  And the only things limiting what she would do for you were the things she needed to do for me and the kids.  But she loves you so so much.  And she is just a s devasted by your loss as I am.  At times I find myself consoling her.  Missing you is going to be that much harder because when I'm not crying it will be Cheryl crying and vice versa.   And I thank you ever so immensely for taking her into your heart the way you did.

And so that is how I must leave you for now mama.  Thank you for all the unwavering love, guidance and support you have given to me.  Thank you for being my protector.  Thank you for being my confidante.  Thank you for being my best friend.  But most of all thank you for being the most amazing loving caring mother that a guy could ask for.   I love you beyond imagination… there are no words to describe how much I miss you.   Until we meet again my dear, dear loving mother .. until we meet again.