An Italian Goodbye. Part One.
Parting, farewell, death, and loss are some of the hardest things to deal with in life.
Even more so when the goodbyes stay in the heart. Though they could have been eons ago.
Lives lived, dreams dreamed, and things wanted within grasp… and then plummeting out of our hands.
Parts of our heart that burned once so bright, and barely any embers remain of the once brilliant flame.
Figuratively, you can be proud knowing what a goodbye can be like in an Italian family.
It’s amusing to me thinking of them like this. I’ve been through many.
There is dinner.
Oh yes — there is dinner.
There is catching up with the family.
And when business comes up, or a funny neighbor is spoken of….
A sit down occurs.
Until it is adjourned by dessert.
Usually, when it becomes that time to leave.
There is part one of the Italian Goodbye.
It is acknowledged.
And then comes more coffee and small talk.
I say this with jest, yet it is true.
We speak from the heart, and there is passion with it.
It can be hard to turn off the water when the faucet is on, so to speak.
So that’s why we turn off the water in stages.
I think that in life there is something that can be gleaned from this.
It’s okay to deal with the painful goodbyes of our hearts in the same way.
The ones where light once danced upon the canvas of our minds, and now the shadows only evoke images of stars dancing in the sky.
Finding ourselves holding onto dreams with a death grip within, and often they have a death grip on us.
I’ve found it almost impossible to say goodbye to some of mine at times.
The ones that felt like they were within grasp, and then they fell like Icarus from the sky before me.
Smashing hard to the ground — feeling despondent, lost, confused, mad at practically a wisp of wind at time… always wishing to have the reason for hoping them to come true before me just one more moment.
I have been there.
And at times, I have remained there.
As the people in Plato’s analogy of the cave. I’ve clung to shadows of the never-been in order to feel one more moment of the light of their hope.
But that hope itself is now but a memory.
Their ashes were set before me, as if they were upon a alter of darkness. Imbued with a corrosive power I have never sworn an allegiance too.
This was before I learned the first part of healing….
Acknowledging.
Acknowledging that stuff is broken and needs mending. And most importantly… having faith even when it seems impossible to even begin to heal, that you can.
You can at least try.
A journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
Acknowledging.
As does an Italian Goodbye.
Step forward weary one.
For he is with you.
And he acknowledges you.
More than you imagine, and more than you presently know.
May he give your heart rest and perfect peace.
As you take the first step to heal.
Acknowledging.
Now… where is the tiramisu?
To be continued….
