Ten years ago, in March of 2011, Angelo and I made our first trip to Italy together--to visit the small hill town in southern Italy where he was born. Angelo hadn’t been back in over 20 years, so this was a big trip for both of us. I bought a special leather journal to record every second of our trip. (Reader, I did not record every second.) Rather it became one of the things I packed for every subsequent trip, and while still not filled, it does carry receipts, notes, lists, coasters, train ticket stubs and memories of our trips over the last ten years.
The last ten years . . . Last year, before the pandemic, Angelo and I talked about how we’d commemorate the tenth anniversary of our traveling back and forth with a special trip, a commemorative trip. But we all know how that plan turned out. Italy was one of the first countries to lock itself down during the pandemic and no one, not even a newly restored citizen, could fly over that border. Besides, since my dad lived with us, we weren’t going to be doing any traveling anywhere. But reflecting on our first trip to Italy gave me a lens through which to look at the last ten years. I can hardly believe we’re still standing . . .
2011 began with our whole family gathering in Sarasota, Florida to celebrate milestone birthdays: My dad’s 80th, Annie and Justine’s 30th, Susie’s 50th, Christopher’s 25th. In February, when I picked up Annie from the train station she gave me a “forgotten” birthday card…from my new grandchild! She was due in the Fall. A month after that, Angelo and I made our maiden trip to Italy. We loved it so much, we went back in August for one of the cousin’s wedding. In November, Luca was born and made us grandparents. A month after that…Annie, Tony and Luca moved in with us. And that was just 2011.
But just wait ‘til you hear what happened next! I’ll try to make this long story short: Over the next couple of years, I lost my teaching job at the whim of an administrator but decided to publish my book anyway, even without a regular income. My book would provide that, right? (Reader: it did not.) In 2014 my first book was published, but my sister was diagnosed with ovarian cancer around the same time. After a year of treatment, she rebounded like Wonder Woman and celebrated with a friend in Florida, just in time to be there for my dad when he fell, hit his head and lapsed into a coma for 10 days. For the next year we were back and forth to Florida to try and be supportive--but I’m not sure how much we were. In 2016, my ex-husband died unexpectedly and I presented at my first national writers conference in Austin, Texas. Then, in August, Angelo and I embarked on our first weeks-long stay in Italy. It was perfect and we began to think about what living there part time might look like.
I don’t have to tell you that that’s not what we did, right? Two days after our return home in October, I was in Florida with my parents because of my mom’s “pneumonia” diagnosis. But it wasn’t pneumonia, it was Stage 4 lung cancer and she died in January of 2017, a week after Justine delivered her twins prematurely--reminding us of the precious balance of life and death. After we lost Mom, we moved Dad to Connecticut; to live with us and be closer to Susie, while she continued to fight a recurrence of cancer. She died a year later. On the one year anniversary of her death, Angelo and I were getting the car ready to go meet her husband and son for dinner and Dad, impatient that we were taking so long, came out of the house on his own, fell off the porch and broke his ankle. Rehab, more surgery and assisted living followed until we decided he was better off back home with us. We decided this in November 2019--mere months before the coronavirus would wipe out hundreds of seniors living in such facilities. Dad made a quick trip to the hospital in January of 2020 with pneumonia--actual pneumonia this time--but was discharged in time to ride out the pandemic at home with us. Which we did fairly well except for losing the grant for our parenting program, which disappeared due to the shutdown restrictions.
This year began relatively mild in comparison; the vaccine news had us hopeful that we could actually plan that anniversary trip and we tentatively looked at the calendar, wondering when my brother could come and stay with dad so we could go. But last month, at age 90, Dad left us. He had endured more than his share of change and grief and he deserved the rest. But his absence--even though I dreamed of it at times--has left a big hole in my heart.
And here we are: ten years later. It feels like both an instant and a century. I’ve lost so much and yet I still find joy and meaning in life. That’s largely due to my family and friends; if I didn’t have the love and support that I do--or the laughter--this last ten years might have been a whole other story. But I think it has something to do with my age, too. I’m not crazy about the way the skin on my arm drapes like a cheap blouse, but if that’s what I have to deal with in order to be able to handle the capriciousness of life with more calm and focus, then I’ll take it. The sky, like my hair, is filled with silver linings.
Wow! This is an action-packed column. Silver Linings is the perfect name. Congratulations on making it through. 💕
You’re an inspiration. I’m familiar with that prayer - please,God, not another growth experience… It never worked for me either. 🙂 I hope you get back to Italy one day soon…