Tuesday, 23 February 2010
At the park the other day, I heard a woman calling her child. "Rocco, come here."
I went over and told her that my son was named Rocco too. We ended up talking for ages, all this stuff tumbled out of both of us that neither expected. Mostly about cancer.
When I was pregnant, Rocco was a funny nickname we came up with for the baby. Rockette for a girl. Dave would grab my armfat and say, "Bit wobbly hon!" So I would grab his expansive tummy and say, "Oh, are you growing a little Rocco too??"
Little did we know that he was indeed growing his own Rocco. His beautiful bouncing tumours, that in the end you could SEE were poking out of his belly.
My top names for the baby were Stan, Sonny, Ramona, Honey, Sid, Gus. Not Rocco.
But at the birth, the baby came out and it was indeed a boy. I looked at Dave and gave him full naming rights, because neither of us were expecting a very positive outcome. I thought that this baby will never know his father, but at least he can live his whole life with a name his father chose for him. Dave chose Rocco.
The woman in the park was Italian, and her Rocco was named after her own father. She told me that there was a Saint Rocco .... which I didn't know. She asked me why we named him Rocco and I told her the real story, instead of saying, oh, we just liked the name. She stood and listened to everything that happened, eyes bugging out. I realised that a lot of time has passed now. I am so much better. Time does amazing things, but you never forget.
She kept asking if Dave was ok now. For once that question didn't piss me off, I just simply said that we hope so. And we try to cherish every day, which is impossible to do all the time, but my goodness the little baby we named knows his dad so well that it really seems like a miracle. Dave used to hold him, this wailing newborn .... hold him tight, and tell me that Rocco was the only thing that could cut through his cancer.
Lately I stand back and watch Dave get all caught up in the stress and bullshit of life. I keep telling him to wear the world like a loose garment but he just laughs at me.
Just now, I did a bit of research. Saint Rocco is the Patron Saint of sickness, who was "known to perform many miracles of healing."
And I got that tingly feeling in my spine, when you look through the physical world and can glimpse, for a second, the myriad of worlds behind it. There is so much that we don't know.
Prayer to Saint Rocco
O Great St. Rocco, deliver us, we beseech you, from contagious diseases, and the contagion of sin. Obtain, for us, a purity of heart which will assist us to make good use of health, and to bear sufferings with patience. Teach us to follow your example in the practice of penance and charity, so that we may, one day enjoy the happiness of being with Christ, Our Savior, in Heaven. Amen.
Miracles of Saint Rocco
After his death it is said that Rocco continued to perform many miracles of healing. He is known as the patron saint of the sick .
For a long time I was worried that his name was too tough for him. Then the headbutts, pushing, stomping began. This guy is so tough. Even when I put a hair clip in and take a photo and publish it on the internet.