Tuesday, 6 April 2010


'Dopo un anno' means "after a year" and it had been so since I last wrote this (please click) "I should-have"...

Two days before it marked the first year of his death, I dreamt that Diego was all dressed and waiting for his ride. He was holding two pots of Basil plants. He gave one to me and then the bus came. He got in... waved before the door closed. The bus started to leave and Diego continued waving from the window as he held the other pot of Basil.

My dream may be what my subconscious wanted to happen, that Diego left for a better place with the comfort of what he loves, as reflected by the 'Basilico', the main ingredient of his favorite
Pesto-Genovese. A classic sauce for pasta that originated from the town of Genoa Italy. Diego used to tell me that when you grind the basil leaves, parmesan cheese, garlic, olive oil, pepper and pine nuts, don't add the salt yet because it will corrode the mixture if you will not consume it immediately. He said that the secret of a perfect Pesto is adding less garlic as it dominates the basil's gusto.

When my late employer was admitted to the hospital for high blood pressure, I lent him Tim Russert's book - Wisdom Of Our Fathers . Its a book of compiled letters from daughters and sons as they remember their own fathers. Its a sequel to the author's first, "Big Russ And Me".

When he got out of the hospital, I would often see the book piled with others on Diego's bookshelves, from where I use to do my ironing.

Two days after he took his life, me and my son Lukie went to tidy up his house. I saw the book and was about to take it home but I did not. I was thinking, its not proper to take things from Diego's house when he is not yet laid to rest.

After a week, I emailed his son Marco that I will go back for the book and he said he just emptied the shelves, packed all the things and took the long drive to his father's other house in Piemonte. It was a pity because the book was a gift sent by my father in law's friend, Uncle Candelario, from Las Vegas. Marco went back to Spain and I just gave up on retrieving my "Wisdom Of Our Fathers".

Seven months later, Marco came back to Venice for his car's yearly tuning. Its actually a company car given to his father and he took it when Diego died. After the car was fixed, he went back to Spain.

When I was cleaning Marco's room here in Lido Venice, I saw Tim Russert's book on his shelf. I emailed him that night and asked if he went to Piemonte and took the book back to Venice. He answered that he did not. They found the book when they were to empty the car as he will be leaving it at the Auto Repair Shop. He said he haven't seen it during the months of using the car and wondered who owns it. He took it home to his mother's house not knowing it was the one I emailed him before.

Marco asked me if I'm really sure its the same book and I said yes because the note and signature of my Uncle Candelario is still there on the first page. He said maybe when his father drove to Piemonte, the day before he commited suicide, he was reading it on the 'tronchetto'(car ferry). I told him that - that's not possible because I was about to take it home when they were still in his father's town for his wake and out of respect, I dismissed the thought. He replied, " Strange. I don't know about that. You can take it...". I just answered him, "I know... Maybe Diego just wants me to have the book back".

After a year he is remembered. Still we pray that he is at peace and found the happiness he always wanted. While I will be consoled by my lucid dream - that the hand that never stopped waving is our PROPER GOODBYES finally said...


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