I’ve been writing these letters in my head for a long, long time now, and just decided to write them down here as part of the “creating memories and family identity for my kids” project, that’s wasn’t really a project per say until I realized that I didn’t want my life to mirror pinterest, a long list of good intentions that never get done.
you’ve been gone six years now and, despite what everyone says, I miss you more each day that passes, not less. It feels weird to be writing you in English, because if I were talking to you it would have been in Italian, but Italian just doesn’t come when I write and I imagine you’re getting my thoughts, wherever you are, and those transcend language. Today in the car the Boy asked if I could put on Nonno F’s song, he wanted to hear “Ma che bella giornata di sole” by Antonello Venditti, I must have told him at some point that was one of your favorite songs, I just don’t know how he remembers these things. They listened to it over and over and they sang along to some of the words. It made me miss you so much. I remembered all the car trips when I hated the classical music you made us listen to, but I also remembered all the Puccini from when I was little, about their age in fact, and I loved it because they were like long, elaborate stories with singing. I still can’t listen to La Turandot without getting melancholy, and I thought to myself, I have to play some opera in the car sometimes, maybe on long trips, because at this age they won’t hate it on principle because it’s old. I want my children to listen to Puccini and think of you.
I wish you were here to see your grandkids cause they’re pretty awesome.
I still love you lots,