My father

[reviews_and_ramblings]

Today Kay Derwydd has made me think to my father. I often think to him. I do not believe in God, but I have an angel by my side, my father. His name was Eros (like the God of Love). He was born the 15 april 1939 in Addis Abeba, Ethiopia, from Italian parents immigrates in Africa. When Italy lost the war with England, the Italians in Ethiopa had to choose: remain or return in Italy. My grandmother chose to return in Italy, her husband said that he would arrive later. He never arrived. At nine years old, after the primary school, my father began to work like metal worker. At fifteen years he remained orphan by mother. He continued to work and living alone with his younger brother. At 31 years old he met my mother and they married in one year and in two years they had my brother and then me. His family was his only love, with to the River Po. The River Po flows into the Adriatic Sea creating a great delta. It is a beautiful and evocative zone. My father loved those places and hoped, after the retirement, to living here with my mother. When a year lacked to his retirement, to my father it was diagnosed the cancer: 3 months of life. My father has continued to fight and to renovate the house on the delta of Po where he wanted to go to living with my mother. And to watch us grow. After three years he was still alive and he fought, but he suffered very much: he did not want to abandon us. Then a morning he exited in boat at 4 a.m.. After few hours my mother went out to search him and saw the boat in the middle of the river. She cried from the river bend but he not returned back. At 10 p.m. he returned at home: my mother asked him what he had made for all those hours and he answered "I have said goodbye to my Po". That one was the last time that he exited in boat. The 18 March 1994 he died and I have thought: he has not realized nobody of his dreams, he has not gone to living with my mother in the house that he wanted, he has not seen us graduated, nothing of nothing... I have continued living as he had said to me, making the things that I wanted to make. Four years after I graduated. We do not choose the date of the bachelor, it depend on how many persons there are in the semester. When I saw the date of my bachelor I cried: the 18 March 1999. Exact five years after the dead of my father. Exactly at the same hour in which he died. I have taken it like a sign. My father was with me, to see the realization at least of one of his dreams. From that moment I always think that he is with me, by my side, and I try living as he has taught to me.

Comments

[elisa-rolle.livejournal.com]

thanks Carolyn. When I speak of my father I feel him nearer. ciao, elisa