Journey return is not exactly the same: it comes to the world screaming and crying, a lot of noise, we start rather quietly in a cool wooden crate. My Queen Mother is gone in January 2009. Maybe he opened the series, I have not done that attend funerals of mothers and fathers of dear friends around me. Our "old", and I use that word with the greatest tenderness, it should be mostly in winter, when it gets too cold in summer, when it gets too hot. They all have very venerable age, from 85 upwards, many had passed the 90 abundantly, but a parent who is no longer leaves a vacuum of unfathomable quality, at whatever age you feel suddenly orphaned and alone in the world. And 's true that medicine has made great strides and the quality of care as well, but I believe that parents of my generation had made a special paste, as we do not do not even dream of. This is why they worked so hard to live, but many of them to die, interminable disease, heart that does not seem to want and then give up despite the term "valley of tears", he does not want to leave anyone, let alone them, even if they have lived for almost a century of seeing sorts of things. Has been the war, or rather two world wars and the terrible 900, have been the difficulties in a world of postwar reconstruction, has been the energy that emanates dall'impellenza children to give us certainty and ease of which they had not enjoyed, but that courage, determination and grit that have had our parents! I always feel a great embarrassment in formal extend condolences, but the face of their loss, I never know to find the words that make sense, maybe there are none.
Everyone is just the heart of the earth
, pierced by a ray of sunshine:
and it is now evening . ( Salvatore Quasimodo )
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