Today is the first anniversary since Nirvana went to the Lord. It’s been a rough and painful year for all the family and lots of her friends. I talk to her every night before I go to sleep.
A few days ago, after talking to her, I lay in bed but sleep would not come. At about 3am, I got off the bed and went on the sofa in the living room.
I opened my tablet to browse the internet. Then, suddenly, a strange urge came and I started to write my feelings. Here they are:
“My princess, it’s been one year today. They say that time will heal. It is not true.
“The hurt gets more intense. Time may help you come to terms with the absence of a loved one but will never heal the loss.
“Twelve months ago, at 12.15pm, I felt your last warm breath on my cheek as I lowered myself to kiss you.
“I still feel that warmth today and I cherish the feeling. Then, the house was practically full of people, friends giving a hand in cooking, taking care of Sam and Noah, talking and doing their best to comfort us besides doing one thousand and one other chores.
“Essa, Francesca, Kylie, Ruth, Luke, Fiona, Charlotte and so many others.
“Nick, who used to come every day, was not there, or Audrey, who, every day, spent hours next to you, or Father Claude who during the previous months had become part of our extended family and helped you rediscover God.
“But, mysteriously enough, on that morning of October 9 we were only six in the house. You, Marius, your mother, Sam, Noah and me.
“After your last breath we took your hands, held each others’ hands, formed a circle and said a small prayer. It was so peaceful. It was so serene. It was so special.
“I still vividly recall the service. The packed church, an array of colours, Ira’s emotional voice, Father Claude’s broken voice reading your letter, Renzo’s breaking down just before playing the tribute he wrote especially for you and Gianni’s ‘she was beautiful from the outside and from the inside’.
Pa, it’s beautiful here
“I still recall the hundreds of people wearing, as you wished, colourful clothes who packed St Julian’s parish church and the thunderous applause as you were carried out of the church.
“I remember the delivery of the big olive tree that Mark and Jenny bought as your memorial. It’s still there, now bearing the first fruits.
“I remember Jonathan’s tribute during Teatru Unplugged. You would have been elated with the sum we managed to raise for the Hospice Movement.
“I remember a multitude of people asking for a copy of your inspirational letter and I felt so proud of you, as always. I recall Facebook going viral with hundreds of people changing the profile picture to the gerbera flower.
“Now, 365 days have passed without me missing talking to you one single day. We talk to each other.
“I recounted sad days, like when Pepper died; happy days when Sam got his excellent benchmark result to go to secondary school, his artistically beautiful swan done at pottery, Noah’s antics and his singing of You Are My Sunshine, his cooking, his excitement when he saw his carrots and cherry tomatoes growing in the yard.
“We talk about whatever happened during that particular day.
“I know for sure that you are in a better place. You told me yourself: ‘Pa, it’s beautiful here.’
“But I miss you like never before. I miss your smile. I miss your tongue in cheek sense of humour. I miss your mischievous look. I miss the jovial arguments and the snow fights in Hanover.
“I just miss you. A lot. Till we meet again, my princess.”