Hundreds of people on Saturday morning attended the funeral of Valentina Allen, 2, who lost her battle with heart disease last week. Members of the community honored the little girl and her spirit by releasing red, heart-shaped balloons toward the sky outside St. Helen Roman Catholic Church. Forum Photo by Robert Stridiron.
Del Cielo.
From heaven.
It is at once both her mother’s maiden name and the little girl’s provenance.
She is Valentina Marie Allen, the tenacious 2-year-old whose short time on earth was marred by long odds courtesy of a heart disease that never gave her a chance.
So she fought for one.
It was through this daily battle, chronicled closely and lovingly by her family, that Valentina captivated her Howard Beach community—and has yet to let go.
To thank the courageous toddler for her inspiration, and her parents, Ryan and Danielle, for such an enduring gift, hundreds of residents and business owners last Saturday descended on St. Helen Roman Catholic Church. Clutching red roses, bows and heart-shaped balloons, they fought back tears as the Fighter arrived for her farewell.
As the tiny, pristine white casket crawled slowly toward the church’s vestibule, supporters let go of their balloons, hundreds of helium-filled hearts climbing toward the cloud-cloaked sky, while not a dry eye could be found on the ground.
It was standing-room-only in the sanctuary, with guests spilling out in front of the 83rd Street church. In his homily, Fr. Francis Colamaria spoke on behalf of the community and thanked Valentina’s parents.
“She has a heart so big it has flooded Howard Beach more than any hurricane could,” he said.
Colamaria also used the American writer Walt Whitman for perspective at a time populated with myriad questions and very little answers. It is a story of Whitman at the wake of a child who has died. As the poet is seated, another child pops onto his lap. They stare at the casket.
“You don’t know what it is, do you?” Whitman asks the kid.
After a brief pause, the man of many words adds, “Neither do I.”
“What we do know is that this little coffin is the heaviest to bear for any human,” Colamaria noted.
The pastor went on to declare Valentina a saint, citing the definition as “one who is with God.”
“Before mass, I asked our little altar servers if they had ever been in the presence of a saint—they said No,” Colamaria related to the packed room. “Now we all can say that we have.”
Danielle Ryan eulogized her baby daughter, at times even addressing her “Vally girl” directly.
“I am proud to be her mother; she has made me a better person,” she said, her cadence soaked in that unique sorrow. “A piece of my heart is gone forever, but I know you will be watching over us. May you rest in eternal peace.”
After the service, more supporters released more hearts toward the sky. By that time, the clouds had already begun to part, the sun’s rays seeming to fight their way through for a glimpse of the Fighter, and the people who came together to embrace her.
They craned their necks for one last look at the balloons that had all but disappeared into the azure sea above, perhaps still thinking of that bundle of brave who left an indelible mark on a grateful community, and little doubt as to her origin.
From heaven.
By Michael V. Cusenza michael@theforumnewsgroup.com
