Two Bright Lights: Remembering Dina

(Editor's note: This is part one of a two-part column. Click here to read the second part.)

In one week, two bright lights went out in Melrose, but now they shine on us from above. Both left for different reasons, both long before we were ready for them to leave, both so loved. Both – without perhaps even knowing it — made indelible impacts during their lives upon their family, friends, and the Melrose community.

Dina (Gennaro) DeCecca, 40, a young mother of two beautiful daughters, Olivia and Ella, and so dearly loved wife of John, died on July 6 from a most tragic accident while beginning a bicycling day-trip on Martha's Vineyard. And Rev. James Field, 59, pastor of Incarnation Church (which I attend) — who just celebrated his 20th anniversary of his ordination on Father's Day — died on July 12 from an inspirational two-year journey with pancreatic cancer.

For four hours this past Sunday, I stood, along with literally hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of people outside Gately's Funeral Home, in the blazing sun and heat with friends to pay respects to John and Dina's grieving family.

Dina, my friends, and I had met each other while new moms at the Melrose Family Room based at the Green Street Baptist Church. This is redundant, but so true, it bears repeating: the thing that stood out about Dina when you met her was her mega-watt smile. Her bright, sparkling eyes. When you talked, she looked right into your eyes and connected. And listened. She really listened. Her compassion, humor, joie de vivre was consistent over the past six years I knew her, and from what I heard at her wake and funeral, over all stages of her life. She was one of the most honest and real moms I knew.

Though not friends, because of the Melrose Family Room, Dina made you feel like a friend and, once acquainted, never forgot you. I remember introducing ourselves at the Melrose Family Room and finding out that we were both from New York and both married in 1996. Then our girls— and we — went separate ways as our girls got older and moved on to different schools, sports, and activities.

Our paths crossed again though when I saw her two years ago at Miss Susan's Dance Gallery, where my daughter, Bridget, took Irish dance.  I was surprised.  Didn't her girls take ballet at Northeast Youth Ballet where my younger daughter, Katie, danced, too?

"They wanted to try it," she shrugged with a smile.

That was so typical of Dina. If her daughters wanted to try something, John and Dina made it happen. Dina seemed to revel in her daughters experiencing all they could. While we sat at the end of year recital, watching our daughters perform their Irish dance routines, you could see the pride pour out of her eyes towards her girls. Talk about alternative energy. Melrose's Main Street could have been lit up with that smile.

Just three weeks ago, I ran into Turner's restaurant to grab some chowder for dinner and, as usual, looked to see if Dina was there. She was. Dina's bouncy, curly brown-haired head popped up from among the crowd of customers standing in line to get in as she stood up on her toes to say hi. Clearly busy, yet Dina saw me and took a moment.

"Hi, Kathy!" We smiled and waved. And then, perhaps thinking my family was coming in, she mouthed silently, "Do you need a table?" She was always ready to help in any way.

While I don't profess to have been close friends as so many were, I felt compelled to attend her wake and funeral, and also write about her impression upon my life because, though she never knew it, Dina was the mirror by which I reflected upon my own self as a mother. Two aspects in particular: my views on work and the lens by which I view my own two daughters.

I remember discussing going back to work, and Dina deciding to work at Turner's "so I can be with my girls during the day." She never knew it, but that simple statement made me rethink how I wanted to spend my time working, leading me away from a corporate career to one of writing which provided similar flexibility.

And I remember her pride-filled eyes at the Irish dance recital. Today, when I find myself obsessing about something inconsequential that's gone "wrong" or imperfect (which of course only I notice, like my daughter wearing the wrong type of black tights, patterned vs. solid, during that dance recital or a few missed steps), I remember Dina only seeing all that was right with her girls, and everything they did, and try to emulate it. She was always so happy to be with her girls. It was so obvious to see that they filled her with joy.

It's a cliché, but true.  Dina's presence will be sorely missed in Melrose.

(Note: to that wonderful, generous couple that kept walking the long receiving line outside in Shaw's parking lot, offering bottles of cold water out of a large cooler to those of us waiting patiently to get into Gately's — who are you?

"It's the least we can do for all of you," you quietly said.

"It was my wife's idea," he said.

You are both the embodiment of the Melrose community's amazing grace and generosity. Thank you.)

Memorial contributions may be made to the DeCecca Children's Fund, c/o Melrose Cooperative Bank, 638 Main St., Melrose, MA 02176.