The loss of my wife Lynda on June 6, 2024, was difficult and deeply painful. After six months of not hearing her voice, I am still in a state of disbelief. I look around the house that Lynda turned into a home. Without her, it feels like just a house again. It is absent of the life that Lynda created every day.
It is said that you don’t realize what someone does until they are no longer there—something I have learned. Even in her hardest days fighting cancer, Lynda managed to research and order things online that improved our life together. I still look around and see items that make me wonder, “When did she find the time to buy that?” or “How did she know it would make the room so much better?” I miss her dearly and will forever hold her in my heart.
I have always enjoyed traveling. I love discovering new places and revisiting old and familiar ones. Lynda often told me that, because of her cancer, she felt she was ruining my life and keeping me from doing the things I enjoyed. She said I could travel after she was gone. It hurt me to hear that, and I would always reply that I cared more for her and for helping her than for any travel I might dream of.
After almost 12 years of battling cancer, Lynda remained strong, but she left us on June 6, 2024. When she passed, my daughter Maria told me I should do something for myself. I would give anything to continue caring for Lynda, but that was no longer possible. My thoughts wandered to my roots and to visiting my aunt, who would soon celebrate her 93rd birthday in Italy.
I felt tremendous guilt for even considering the trip because Lynda wouldn’t be with me. I didn’t feel I had the right to start having a “good time.” The guilt built up as I thought about Lynda’s words—that she had given up her life so I could enjoy some of my remaining years. I think about this all the time and hope and pray that isn’t true. The guilt has not diminished. I would give anything to have her back.
THE JOURNEY HOME
The arrangements were made, and my brother and I traveled to Rome. On the first day, we took a bus to my hometown, Filetto, Abruzzo—a beautiful small town with a population of 930, most of whom live on farms in the outskirts. I admit my bias, but the town not only holds the charm of an ancient small village, but it is also conveniently located about 30 minutes from some of the most beautiful beaches to the east, in Pescara, and about 30 minutes from the majestic Maiella and Gran Sasso mountains to the west.
While I was excited to visit, I was still weighed down with guilt. I could not let go of the thought that Lynda had given up her life so that I could travel. I hope this isn’t the case, but the thought lingered.
It was thrilling to visit the land of my roots, the farmhouse where I was born, and to reconnect with family members, some of whom I hadn’t seen in almost 50 years, along with others I had never met.
A WARM WELCOME
When we arrived at my cousin’s house (in the middle of an extreme heat wave), we had not slept for almost 36 hours. But who could think about sleep? I was too excited to see my aunt, my cousin, her husband, and their sons. The excitement of being there outweighed any discomfort from the heat, especially after enjoying a delicious Italian dinner prepared by my cousin. Soon after, I finally went to bed.
The next day, we visited my aunt at her farmhouse about a mile outside town. It is the same farm where she has lived since she married about 75 years ago—a beautiful house on a hill, surrounded by breathtaking views of mountains, valleys, and extensive grapevines.
That evening, my brother and I took a walk around Filetto. While it saddened me to see that the town had fewer people than before, I was excited to walk streets I hadn’t seen in almost 50 years. As we strolled, an elderly woman stepped out of her home and started a conversation with us. She then invited us in for coffee. Where else would an elderly woman invite two strangers into her home at 9:30 at night? Such wonderful people!
WHERE I WAS BORN
During our visit, we walked down the dirt roads toward the farmhouse where I was born. Sadly, most of the house had collapsed from time and neglect, so I couldn’t go inside. But I stood in front of it, recalling the joy of playing as a little boy with cows, sheep, and my dog.
We were poor—there was no indoor plumbing or electricity. My mother cooked dinners in the fireplace, and we had to fetch water from a well across the yard. Yet, I never felt poor. The love and comfort of family and neighbors made life rich. This is where I first learned the life lesson of caregiving: to care for family members and neighbors, to share, and to love anyone in need.
Some of the land remains in the family and is now mostly covered in grapevines. Visiting during grape-picking season, we enjoyed eating grapes straight from the vine—nothing tastes better! We also stopped to talk with men harvesting grapes, who were loading them into trailers to be delivered to a winery in nearby Orsogna.
THREE DAYS IN ROME
From Filetto, we traveled to Rome with Matteo, my cousin’s son. He arranged for us to stay in a spacious apartment within walking distance of major attractions.
Visiting the Vatican for the first time exceeded every expectation. Walking through St. Peter’s Basilica and the Sistine Chapel left me speechless. The grandeur of the art and architecture—created centuries ago with limited tools—was awe-inspiring.
That evening, we dined at Ristorante Abruzzi SS Apostoli, a recommendation from Msgr. Avila of Falmouth. The food and service were incredible. At the end of the meal, the restaurant provided us with four bottles of liquor to enjoy with our dessert—gratis.
TIME WITH FAMILY
The rest of the trip was spent reconnecting with family. We visited my grandfather’s home, where I grew up and played as a boy. One cousin arranged a family dinner at a local restaurant. The meal was endless, delicious, and made even better by live music from an accordion player and his two young sons.
I also visited Chiesa Madonna Della Liberata, the church in Filetto where I was baptized and received my First Communion. The small size of the church surprised me, as childhood memories had painted it as much larger. Still, attending Mass there was deeply emotional. I felt a connection to my faith, my family, and to Lynda, who was with me in spirit throughout this trip.
FINAL THOUGHTS
I can’t wait to go back!
I’m so grateful for my brother, sister-in-law, and my family in Italy, for planning such a memorable visit. This journey was one of the most joyous adventures of my life, yet also one of the saddest. It reminded me that we must seize opportunities when they arise and not wait for a “better time.” Lynda and I had planned to visit Italy many times but always put it off. In retrospect, we should have gone when we had the chance.
Everyone tells me that Lynda would want me to travel, reconnect with my roots, and find joy. I want to believe that is true, but the guilt remains. While I enjoyed my time in Italy, it did not take away the sadness of traveling without her.
I would trade it all to have Lynda back with me physically, though she will always be in my heart.
Comments