Letter to my Grandma

Dear Grandma Lolly,

I've been asked to write about who you were. Actually, that's not true. Nobody asked because everybody knew you. Even those who had never seen you in person nor in a photo had heard us talking so much about you that they felt as if you were part of their families, too.

And they're all gonna be there tomorrow, at your funeral. No, it's not because you conveniently scheduled it for a Saturday afternoon. Nor because they want to show us their support. Or rather, that's not the only reason. They'll be there to give you a - for someone first - last hug, because it was impossible not to love you.

You were not - to me - the perfect TV commercial grandma who had all sorts of treat ready for me when I came home from school. You only cooked very specific dishes – pinza, sarde in saor, tiramisù, mushroom tagliatelle – which you stopped cooking altogether one day, because you just didn't want to anymore.

You were the one who used to destroy all the recycling efforts in town because you just had to fill the organic waste with old newspapers, so that neighbors wouldn't peek and see what you were throwing away "and who knows what they would think!" You were the one who used to consider anybody else much cleverer than you were, "they must think I'm a cuckoo" as you would often tell me lately.

You were the one to tell me to come visit if I missed you, when I moved overseas. You have no idea how much I missed you during those months. But coming back wasn't exactly easy, so I hoped and I prayed that you wouldn't choose to leave us right then. We all thought you were much more fragile and delicate than you actually were.

You would love us nonetheless, but geez there were a bunch of "nonetheless". “Such a white sweater, ahn?!” meant it was way too white, instead of greyish white or beige, which is well picked; “sooo straight your hair, ahn?!” because you'd rather see some curls; “aren't you cold?!” because the neckline was too low-cut. We had so much fun, reading between the lines of your remarks. Yep, that's it. Our family has always laughed and shared meals together, but we cry in private, 'cause what impression would other people have?!

And two - or maybe three? - years ago you got very close to leaving us for real. And I cried my eyes out. Because I wasn't ready; I hadn't come to have lunch with you one last time; I hadn't hugged you; we hadn't shared a good laugh in a while.

When you recovered, I did everything I could to enjoy your presence. So many new laughs, so many hugs, so many (un)told stories with your nonesense storytelling! So why am I still crying now? Well, think of a child and an adult playing together all day. Once the videogame is over, the cartoon is over, and so are the card game and the puzzle, it's 10 p.m. and it's time to say goodbye. Well, I'm that child, looking for yet another game, one more excuse, one more reason not to let you go. And I get no relief thinking that there was enough time to say goodbye because I just wish you were here.

Thanks for the time you devoted us, with all your energies. We're going to celebrate you again tomorrow, all together at the restaurant as you loved to do. And maybe there'll be room for tears, too, whatever impression other people may have.

With all my love,
your baby girl.

TR # 17 - Shoelace

"The people you've touched,

the way you've touched them

I hope they've touched you too,

'cause in this life it's hard to tell

what's false and what is true."

I don't remember how old I was, maybe five or six, maybe even four. I used to chase Ma' like a shadow, shoelace in hand, begging her to teach me how to tie my shoes. And I spent hours blocking the blood flow of her arm to practice, while Gogo and Pa' were trying to teach me the technique in theory with their typical masculine logic ("Take the lace, turn it, then slip the top into the hole and pull the other side".... men ....). I don't know if any of them has memories of this stage of my childhood, but certainly they don't remember why I had it. I was terrified that Ma' could die at any moment without having time to teach me to tie my shoes (and this says a lot about my confidence in the teaching methods of the males of the house). I don't know where I've heard it, perhaps it was Freud perhaps an episode of CSI or Criminal Minds, that this is a very common phase for every child, reckless fear of seeing their parents die suddenly. Instead the laces' thing was just my obsession.

Tonight Tat returned home with shining eyes, a lump in her throat and a calling card ready to call her boyfriend, whose father died suddenly. He had a cancer, but died for a regurgitation due to the chemo. He was 55. I've been there, Gogo's been there, and in our way we were both far when they needed us the most. Gogo gave up his Erasmus, I came back with my boyfriend back then to help arranging the funeral. It's one of those experiences that you don't wish to anyone, but that teaches you more than you learn in decades of school. It teaches you to be strong for everybody, to fight back your own tears so you can dry everybody else's, while you're waiting for your turn to fall apart that never comes. It teaches you the meaning of the word "impotence" and it brands it in your heart, in that guilt that-no matter if you're near or far-makes you think about what you could have done said changed and instead you've not done said changed. It teaches you to reconsider your life, your future projects in the light of what happened, because when death hits you so close it also inevitably changes your life.

I was taught to seize every opportunity and to learn as much as possible from everything that happens to me and from the people I meet. And if today to learn how to tie my shoes I can Google or Wikipedia "tie shoes" and I'm fine, to learn to appreciate life and decide what I want and what I have to change I have no other choice but to observe the world, the people, and myself in all this. And every day, remember what I learned and who taught me. Meanwhile, shoelace in hand, I begin to review.

Three nickels

“21. 11. 1992

Dear Santa,
Ill write you early enogh so you can find the time to find the stuff I need.
This year I don't want any presents for me even tough I've been a good girl, but I just need a kimono and a radio, 'cause mama needs them. So I can help her pull out the three nickels shes got on her forehead and we can plant them and grow the nickels tree. Thanx a lot, say hi to the reindeer.
Giorgia Badin.”

“18.02.1993
Dear Santa,
I just wanted say thanx for the kimono and the radio, even tough mama didn't need them, after all. Oh, and while you're at it, say thanx to the Wise Men for the candies, mama liked those!
Giorgia Badin.”
“01.02.2013
From: Giorgia gbadgirl@libero.it
To: Ale; Anna; Babi; Cher; Dani; Ele; Eleuni; Elyb; Elytit; Mary; Nick; Ozzy; Peppe; Rosa; Vero
Obj: B-Daaayyyy!!

Hey guys!
I'm depressed right know, can you believe I'm almost 30??! Still I'm safe for another year :-D! And not the oldest of the gang, uh?! Just kidddin! C'mon Vero, no offense meant!! How about celebrating (or drown our sorrows)?? See ya on the 18th of course, at my daddy's place, OK? If my boss won't change his mind on the V-E-R-Y S-H-O-R-T meeting we're having (he's such a cock), I'd say we meet 9.15 so that MAYBE you, Ely, will make it on time??! Let me know who's coming so I can book the place! Bring whoever you want! See yaaaaaa! Hugs,
Giò

P.S.- This year NO PRESENTS, no kidding!! But you can bring the cake ;-)!”
“18.02.2013

Dear Giugi,
the date on this letter is not -of course- the date it was written, but the day you'll receive it. I didn't choose your 29th birthday by chance. When you're 29, you're often taking stock of your life, making tough choices, tough decisions. Or, as in my case, you suddenly see "game over" on your screen. I'm 29 right now while I'm writing, you're in your room and you're just eight. In my whole life I always did everything in a rush, as if I had known I wasn't allowed to waste my time. But I wouldn't retrace my steps, I don't have any regrets and just few remorses. I started writing because this morning, while touching my forehead, you asked me what those bumps were. Since I couldn't explain, I told you they were three nickels, remember? And that I would have had to go to Heaven, to pull those out and plant the nickels tree. Forgive me for lying to you, forgive me for not being there to see you grow up. See? I'm asking your forgiveness for things not under my control. This is something you should keep in mind: be always sorry and thankful, even for things that don't figure on you or people around you. There are so many things I wish I could teach you, even if I'm not the best person to do that. Take care of your dad, he looks strong but he's fragile inside. I wish I were by your side, when you'll have your first gratifications, and your first disappointments too. Don't beat yourself down, be strong. You're already strong.
You just came and showed me your letter for Santa. You must have heard me and your daddy talking about chemo and radio therapies... I'm so sorry honey, I didn't mean to steal your dreams.
Back to us, what were we talking about? Now that I don't have much time left, I reconsider everything under a different light. Sounds prosaic, but it's true; oh, by the way, the old "when you don't have much time left you do everything you always dreamed about" isn't true. It's bullshit. When you're diagnosed a cancer, you spend every second trying to recover, and you have hardly any energy left. Thus, live now, live every second without a second thought, don't linger on resentment or regret because you really have just one life. And nothing lasts forever. Now that you're young, everything seems to last forever, delights as much as deprivations. It's not like that. Everything -except death- changes more often than you could imagine. The way you'll miss me -that will change; the "endless" love for your first boyfriend -that will change; the disappointment for your first breakup -that will change; the job you hate -that will change; your lease on life -that will change. Don't ever let your life go without your guide, fight to change what's wrong. And don't ever stop fighting just because everybody else goes against you: I fought to get married and give birth to you when I was barely twenty, and now everybody agrees with me. Even your grandma.
Always follow your instinct, even in the worst moments, because I trust it to lead you in the right direction. Remember how the sun rises in the sky: it always wins, against any clouds, it will fight and rise every single day. Do the same, follow your light, rush headlong into every experience, breathing every moment of those. I'm already missing those breaths, those smells and those moments which get out of my hands... but I wish you will feel this nostalgia in a far future, in sixty years at least.
I wish I could write forever, but I don't think I can. Trust yourself, don't trust others too much, and most important don't trust those who promise the world to you. Your dad conquered me with actions, not words. Take care of him, make him proud. Now it's time for me to end this letter. I love you, I know you know it, and I'm not watching you from up above, so do all the crap you want to. If one's value is measured on the mark she leaves on others, when I look at you I'm proud of myself because I'm worth much more than I could ever imagine. Have a nice life, happy birthday Giugi.
Mommy.

PS- In the envelope you'll find three nickels... who knows if they'll still exist, in your future, and maybe they're worth a lot!"

“15.03.2013
From: Giorgia gbadgirl@libero.it
To: Babi
Obj: Done!

Baby, it's done!
I booked the flight... and gave notice!! AAAAHHHH!!! I've never been this impulsive, am I fucking things up, whaddo u say?! I know it's crazy, relying on a letter and all that stuff, but... you know, it's my mother!! She's right, I should live my life! Do you remember when we bungee jumped, that time?! Here, I'm diving with the same recklessness... and we liked that so much! Yes, maybe it will hurt afterwards, but why don't we mention the thrill of the jump??! Oh by the way, I went to have the coins evaluated as you told me: yes, you were right, this coinage is a rare one, they're worth a fortune! But I don't care, I gave them to my daddy because I know he treasured them. Now I must go, I don't want THEM to find out I'm minding my own fucking business while at work, these last days ;-)! Call you tomorrow, hugs!
Giò
P.S.-Would you mind learning how to use that fucking Skype, so I can at least call you once I'm there??!"

One noise, just one

One noise, just one. To sweep this gloomy air away, to heat this night with new life, 'cause night creates ghosts and fears. I was afraid of the dark when I was I little girl too, she thought. It's waiting for those things that we don't see, but we know exist, that scares us. Or -maybe- we're afraid of being alone and listening to ourselves. Too bad, that loneliness. But you have to turn the light on, right? That's how everything turns out right. But it could happen that it lights up only a little part, it could happen that I can't find the switch. That's when fear comes back. One noise, just one, would be enough to make you understand that life goes on around you, to understand that everybody else isn't looking at you. Or maybe is, if that noise is the bogeyman's step, if he's coming to grab you. Shit, I'm freaking out. No good, you must breathe deep Meggie.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.Panting doesn't do any good. It's a friend of silence, and silence brings ghosts and fears along, 'cause it's a night-mate. Oh no, this is no good. I'm sweating.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Neither the moon is brave enough to show herself, what a coward. And I know what "coward" means. Oh God, I know. Well, is there a God somewhere? I would really like to meet him, if he does exist, so that I could congratulate him. He made me perfect. Wealthy family, happy life. Not too many ambitions, way too many illusions. And the dream of love. Why didn't he make me a lesbian? Could have been the same, who knows. Or maybe not. I would have find it out too late, for sure. Another missed opportunity, one more. For her all life, in every damned event of those filthy twentythree years, she had never arrived at the right moment, ever. I was even born too soon, my fate was written. Fate. He's there, beyond everything, he manages everything and decides everything, he never speaks and throws cheap shots. But if you go off to war with him, it's like you're an underdog. And what's worse is that you cannot fly into a rage, this is not left to you either. 'Cause it's not someone's fault. "Fate's fault", you shrug your shoulders and that's all. But I can't beat anybody up, and I can't lean on anything. He must keep the balance, he must keep this crappy world up. That's the reason why he's so constant, he repeats the same old story again and again. It's such a pity that I found myself in the middle of that. If only HE was there, too. That's a record. Five minutes without mentioning HIM.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
He's not here and he won't be here. You must do without him. But the pain... you can't do without the pain. And it comes from deep inside, that's where it starts from. And there are no fake tears, no more light memories. Tears are as real as ever, memories are way too heavy. Tears that turn into screams, memories that turn into stones. Your wall is made of stones. But everywhere you turn, there's his smell, his face, his smile. All those things now are gone. And if you try to hug his shadow, you can't grab anything but yourself. But if you can't stand tall, you'll fall over and you will never learn to fly. And everything falls along with you. He's not here, you must do without him. In six months, how many time did I say that? Had I ever understood that. Had I ever learned that. If only... if only what?? If only I was different, but I can't be. I just can't not give a damn about it. As if it wasn't anything. It was everything, that's the fact. The fact is that I never arrive at the right time. If I had arrived before, I would have had him on time. If I had arrived later, maybe he wouldn't have even noticed me. 'Cause he would have already been with her. "Already"? I should say "again". "Her"? "Slut" would be more appropriate. Oh my God. Calm down.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Maybe I was too weak, maybe he was too unsure. I don't know, I can't know. Being at his side all those months, not knowing if he feels the same, if his heart is beating at the right pace. I don't know who would stand that. Having to trust his words, even if the light in his eyes shows a different colour. Your conscience then, it'd better shut up. Or it would tell you, that he's not talking real.
Devastating. It's so tremendously devastating. Suddenly arriving in his life, when they were breaking up. Bad choice, bad timing. Falling in love with him, while he was still thinking of her. Bad choice. Waiting all the time he needed, allowing him enough time to recover. And, in the meantime, falling deeper in love with him. Oh God, why? Why.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.Kissing him, then. And what's worse, believing that that was the solution. Figuring a solution where there's no solution. Believing that a hug, a strong hug could reassure both of you. But his hug is a shy one, his squeeze is not convincing. And you pretend not to see. And you spend your time hoping he will call you, watching TV 'cause if there are interferences, it could be the mobile ready to ring. Damn stupid, they were just interferences. Your mobile is dumb and the silence is a night-mate. And so, you create your ghosts and fears, but who can prevent that? Wonder who he's thinking of. Maybe he's thinking of her, and she's thinking of him. And I'm still here, waiting for interferences. Maybe he doesn't love me anymore, maybe he's thinking about going back to her. And I'm not brave enough to ask him. 'Cause if I turn the light on and I find out the bogeyman for real, then I know it's over. Better be uncertain, 'cause I'm sure he will choose me, at the end. Whatever. Slut. Such a slut. She took him away from me, and he let himself be taken.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
I would have made the grade. I would have persuaded him that I was the right one. If only she hadn't come back. Sure, what can you do? After two years with her, six months with me can be thrown in the dump. Together with my whole life. Today it would be our first year. Today, right here. But he's not here, I must do without him. And the pain and the silence clasp my soul, good God how it hurts. He disappeared, soon after telling me he was going back to her. Nasty coward. He surely is an asshole, but I just can't hate him. 'Cause the fate drove him, he loved me. He loved me. And now he's not here. I must do without him. But how can I? How?
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
There must be a reason, for all this. Sure. Such a pity that nobody knows it. Oh, but I'm not waiting for someone to explain it to me -that's for sure. I've got the solution, 'cause he's not here. This night lasts too much. I just have to calm down.
Breathe in, breathe out.
Breathe in, breathe out.
And close my eyes. And know everything's fine. Know that I'm worth. He used to tell me. But he's not here, and I have to do without him. Goodbye my soul. I used to love him. I still love him. I love you Jack, can you hear me? My darling, can you hear me? Holy God. My God.Bang.
One noise, just one, ripped the night, swept the gloomy air away, woke up the nature. One noise, just one. And just like a call, here he comes as if he heard it. He comes, he sees, he doesn't know.
'Cause if it had to be a goodbye, it would have been a goodbye, but as he wanted it to be. 'Cause "cancer" must not be said, cancer scares, cancer hurts. And she was so close, she had already healed him, from a too long-dragged love. Suddenly bursting into her life, when she was so frail and so delicate. Bad choice, bad timing. And disappearing, when she was deeper in love than ever. Bad choice, even worse maybe. But fate had decided, it had all the power. There had been no choice, nothing else to do. How could you impose also that, on her? How, after imposing on her to be close to you, to be able to stand what everybody else wouldn't have stood, to heal, with her smile, the disillusion of a past love? That smile that teased him, that face that kept on coming back, in the places, in the streets, in the smells and faces of their love, so brief and yet so intense. It would have lasted, one more instant would have been enough to reach eternity. But if pain doesn't leave any way out, disease leaves even less. And that illness, so big, so invisible, had taken possession of him, and life changed. His eyes changed, when he said I Love You, 'cause if this could be the last time, you're almost breathless when you say it. And you're not brave enough to tell her why, why that voice, why that blink. And if you don't say it, the silence will create ghosts and fears for you. Fear of not seeing her again, fear of hurting her, fear of stealing her smile, but her smile is all that's left for you. And fear brings you to drastic decisions. 'Cause she will hate. But rather than hating fate -'cause against him, you're an underdog-, she'd better hate you. She'd better call you a bastard, she'd better have a picture to tear, a pain to yell out, a name to give to that pain. 'Cause maybe, if it's you that will give her that pain, that pain can heal. Maybe. You'd better tell her you're going back to your past, you're going back to the other one, nobody's fault. This last thing, then you're gone. You just can't say who paid more. But you paid a lot. So painful, that hospital room, that white cold wall where her eyes still reflected themselves, and her face in your dreams. Don't know how, you fought thinking of her, hoping she could still be happy. And instead, you recovered. Don't care how, you're out of that. Regressed. Cancer has regressed. And while it's gone, you come back. But not at her's, couldn't be such a bastard. You come back to see one more place that talks about the two of you. The old barn. One year ago a new feeling was born, one year ago a brand new emotion. Memories of her all over the place.
Here he comes, here he goes in, here he sees. And the daylight brings light into him. Here he understands. Here he knows what he did, here he feels where he pushed the limit. Here she is, there, smiling at her mocking fate, while dying. 'Cause one more time, she chose the wrong moment. He's there, she doesn't have to do without him anymore. He's there but it's too late, it's too late when he understands. But the new day brings new light with it, sweeps the gloomy air away and brightens new colours. And as bright as the light, here comes the only choice.
Bang.
One noise, just one, had said goodbye to the night, and one noise, just one, welcomes the day, receives the light and sweeps the darkness away. And finally Jack's heart beats at the same pace as Meggie's. Finally two hearts, but only one beat, only one noise. One noise, just one.

One noise, just one.