Beautifully written, what a joy to read your words. 'Such a wrong age to die; such a nice age to be forever.' is said so eloquently about those who pass too young. Thanks for sharing this piece.
You know this one gives me goosebumps, and has tears running down my cheeks. Feels so ... now.
It is filled with a million treasures, but my favorite observation, told only the way you can: "Saverio passed at fifteen. Such a wrong age to die; such a nice age to be forever."
PS. I also say Hi to all the ancestors when I'm in the cemetery!
Beautiful, Silvio. I laughed at the image of Father Giorgio "eating like a hippopotamus", and then it just goes on with amazing details and musings, as you always do.
This time it made me take action and will be calling my dad later today, hopefully diminishing the need for loss to appreciate those moments, as you accurately pointed out with that beautiful line.
Another beautiful, moving piece, Silvio. Whether factual or fictional, I don't care, I'm drawn in, I believe, the words are powerful. This was very moving.
Here are the lines that spoke to me most:
"Later that same morning, as planned, we go to the cemetery to visit you. As if you lived there."
The turn of phrase of "As if you lived there." sitting on its own at the end has real punch. It made me smile. Then, later, you elaborate on this concept. It's a great moment.
"My friend Saverio passed at fifteen. Such a wrong age to die; such a nice age to be forever."
An observant remark. I've never thought about death like this and the age at which one might die.
"Loss is the conduit for appreciating what we thought we disliked."
Thank you so much! It’s that place where the line between fact and fiction gets blurred, and you hang in between and go with the flow, in either direction. As always, Nathan, you highlight some sentences that are important to me. Thank you for these precious comments!
You're most welcome. There are some writers here who I enjoy reading but simply wait for their new pieces of come out. Then there are some (a very precious few) whose archives I want to trawl and discover and read all that they've written. You're squarely in the latter category 🤗🤗
I haven't lost a parent yet, but this was so similar to how my dad describes experiencing his deceased father. I guess you'll never really know until you truly experience it.
I guess every experience is different and strictly personal. But one thing is immutable, I think: you're never ready. Even when they've been suffering for years and/or on life support, when it strikes, you're never ready. Mine was lightning quick: the evening prior we were chatting on the phone as usual, and then, in a matter of hours, he was gone. If I had to choose, though, this is the way I'd want it to end for myself, when the day comes.
...one of my friends is a 4ior warrior...so interesting to think what numbers find their way to us...i wonder if like other conduits they might hold our souls, or at least part of our channels...
You know, I've been wondering about this for all my life. They must have some other meaning or function that we cannot fathom. Thank for reading, my friend.
I also believe our loved ones who have passed reach out to us. My mom has been gone since 1989 and I still hear from her in ways similar your connection. My oldest son, who never met my mom, recently named his second daughter by Mom’s name. It was such a special gift. Thanks for your continued beautiful prose.
Thank you for sharing this, Stan. Yes, I do believe there are conduits out there, somewhere, that they use to reach out to us. It's interesting, naming sons or daughters after their grandparents (or great grandparents) is common practice here in Italy. Especially for the first ones, the eldest. At least in the Center and the South. :)
Thank you, Van, for reading and sharing your thoughts. “we hold things where we think we need them and then watch them take other shapes as we let go” — love this.
Beautifully written, what a joy to read your words. 'Such a wrong age to die; such a nice age to be forever.' is said so eloquently about those who pass too young. Thanks for sharing this piece.
Kelly! Thank you so much for you rkind words. Great to see you here!
You know this one gives me goosebumps, and has tears running down my cheeks. Feels so ... now.
It is filled with a million treasures, but my favorite observation, told only the way you can: "Saverio passed at fifteen. Such a wrong age to die; such a nice age to be forever."
PS. I also say Hi to all the ancestors when I'm in the cemetery!
Karena! Your words always move me, dear. Thank you so much for sharing them. And love your PS. :)
Beautiful, Silvio. I laughed at the image of Father Giorgio "eating like a hippopotamus", and then it just goes on with amazing details and musings, as you always do.
This time it made me take action and will be calling my dad later today, hopefully diminishing the need for loss to appreciate those moments, as you accurately pointed out with that beautiful line.
Thank you, Oscar! Father Giorgio has a huge belly. Just for the record lol. Also, thanks for sharing the bit about you calling your dad. :)
😂😂 Great touch, sounds like a character!
And I did call my dad and enjoyed it a lot :)
Another beautiful, moving piece, Silvio. Whether factual or fictional, I don't care, I'm drawn in, I believe, the words are powerful. This was very moving.
Here are the lines that spoke to me most:
"Later that same morning, as planned, we go to the cemetery to visit you. As if you lived there."
The turn of phrase of "As if you lived there." sitting on its own at the end has real punch. It made me smile. Then, later, you elaborate on this concept. It's a great moment.
"My friend Saverio passed at fifteen. Such a wrong age to die; such a nice age to be forever."
An observant remark. I've never thought about death like this and the age at which one might die.
"Loss is the conduit for appreciating what we thought we disliked."
Stunning line.
Thank you so much! It’s that place where the line between fact and fiction gets blurred, and you hang in between and go with the flow, in either direction. As always, Nathan, you highlight some sentences that are important to me. Thank you for these precious comments!
You're most welcome. There are some writers here who I enjoy reading but simply wait for their new pieces of come out. Then there are some (a very precious few) whose archives I want to trawl and discover and read all that they've written. You're squarely in the latter category 🤗🤗
Omg thank you! This is so kind. Really.
I like to think that those we loved, left us with a smile. A smile is a beautiful way to remember them and you have given it to us. Thank you Silvio.
Thank you, Martino. Beautiful imagery: leaving us with a smile. Beautiful.
I haven't lost a parent yet, but this was so similar to how my dad describes experiencing his deceased father. I guess you'll never really know until you truly experience it.
I guess every experience is different and strictly personal. But one thing is immutable, I think: you're never ready. Even when they've been suffering for years and/or on life support, when it strikes, you're never ready. Mine was lightning quick: the evening prior we were chatting on the phone as usual, and then, in a matter of hours, he was gone. If I had to choose, though, this is the way I'd want it to end for myself, when the day comes.
...one of my friends is a 4ior warrior...so interesting to think what numbers find their way to us...i wonder if like other conduits they might hold our souls, or at least part of our channels...
You know, I've been wondering about this for all my life. They must have some other meaning or function that we cannot fathom. Thank for reading, my friend.
I also believe our loved ones who have passed reach out to us. My mom has been gone since 1989 and I still hear from her in ways similar your connection. My oldest son, who never met my mom, recently named his second daughter by Mom’s name. It was such a special gift. Thanks for your continued beautiful prose.
Thank you for sharing this, Stan. Yes, I do believe there are conduits out there, somewhere, that they use to reach out to us. It's interesting, naming sons or daughters after their grandparents (or great grandparents) is common practice here in Italy. Especially for the first ones, the eldest. At least in the Center and the South. :)
Oh wow. "Loss is the conduit for appreciating what we thought we disliked."
It’s so true, isn’t it. Thank you, Rick!
I'm sorry for your loss
Thank you, Anna. Can’t believe it’s been four years already.
Thank you so much! Glad to hear you liked it.
Thank you, Van, for reading and sharing your thoughts. “we hold things where we think we need them and then watch them take other shapes as we let go” — love this.