QUINCY —
Love can take time to declare itself. For years, Patrice O’Gorman thought of Alphonse LaRosa as “the one who got away.” For his part, LaRosa knew she cared but never realized quite how much. They dated for three years after high school but lost touch when he decided to make an Air Force career as a navigator and bombardier in Korea and Vietnam. Eventually, they married others and had families. Now and then, they’d think of one another.
Then last June, thanks to two compassionate clerks at Quincy City Hall, they found each other again. For the first Valentine’s Day in 60 years, they are together, newlyweds at 79 and 78.
“To find someone who loves you and has loved you – I know her feelings are genuine – to find this at this stage of my life, I feel super fortunate,” LaRosa said.
As he told their story, slowly and thoughtfully, his bride sat beside him, polishing off a cupcake and coffee, nodding and smiling as she listened.
“From the first day, it was love at first sight,” she said when he was done. “I don’t know why he didn’t think I liked him so much, but I did and I do. We’re like two love birds, just a little older now.”
In December, the gentle, soft-spoken couple moved to an assisted living apartment in Allerton House at Hancock Park in Quincy. They were married Jan. 5 at St. John’s Church down the street, with the reception at Allerton House. LaRosa sold his house in Georgia, she sold her home in Quincy, and she moved from a nursing home floor to the assisted living apartment with LaRosa.
“People see her in a wheelchair and think she is the disabled one,” he said. “She does have mild disabilities. But I need her as much as she needs me, because she has filled a big void in my life.”
How it all began
Their story begins in 1951 in downtown Boston, where the office buildings almost touched one another across the narrow street. He was a sewing machine repairman for Ace Vacuum Co., facing out a front window on the third floor as he worked. Across the street, one floor down, she was also by a window, working for the Boston Port Development Co. They caught each other’s eye.
He was 19, from an Italian family in East Boston. She was 17, from an Irish family in Belmont. They’d smile and wave; he used an extension ruler to form letters. One day, he pantomimed eating. She nodded. They began meeting for lunch, buying subs and taking them to Boston Common. He’d drive her home from work.
They dated for three years, until he joined the Air Force. They stopped writing. After 15 years, he was back, at Hanscom Air Force Base in Bedford, and called her. She told him she was engaged. “I wished her well and went off,” he said.
He moved to Florida, married and “had 41 good years” with his wife until she died. Thirty years into their marriage, she sent flowers from Quincy to his mother’s funeral in East Boston. “I perceived something had happened to her marriage (her husband had died of lung cancer) but felt any contact would be inappropriate,” he said.
Twelve years later, widowed, he moved to New Hampshire to be near his four daughters.
Reunited at last
“Going through my stuff, I found a photograph of Pat, taken when we were teenagers,” he said. He started an Internet search with no luck. (He had her married name spelled incorrectly as McKenney, not Kenney). On June 28, 2012, he drove to Quincy City Hall, knowing she had lived in the city. Still no luck.
Two clerks, Cindylou Ohlson and Brenda Fernandez, wouldn’t give up, found the obituary for her father, Sylvester O’Gorman, and her correct married name popped up. Once he had an address, his daughter got a phone number and he called.
“This is Al LaRosa,” he said. “I can’t believe it,” she replied. She had also been trying to find him online. “Can I visit?” he asked. “Of course,” she said.
He drove to her house and there was no one home. “I thought, ‘This was just 10 minutes ago that I spoke with her. She can’t have croaked that fast,’ ” he said. He called back. “I forgot to say I’m in a nursing home,” she said.
A few minutes later, LaRosa walked into her room. Her back was to him, he turned her wheelchair around, sat down and they began talking. “It’s like we had never had been apart,” he said.
“True,” she murmured.
That night, he said, “I had a long talk with myself and decided to pursue the relationship.” A week later, he said, “I felt that talk is cheap, so I went to a jewelry store and bought her an engagement ring,” with a one-carat center stone and two half-carat outside diamonds
Her two stepsons and his four daughters attended their wedding.
At their age, LaRosa said, “you can’t expect to be 17 again. You have to make physical and mental adjustments. But if they still love you, you have no complaints. You are very fortunate to find someone to care for you in the later part of your life.”
She reached for his hand and said, “I love him to pieces.
“It’s like we have loved each other from the moment we saw each other. And when we found each other again, it was like no time had passed.”
(Patriot Ledger)
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