Dear Francesco

Dear Francesco,

I’ve been unpacking our life at a new place, it’s weird yet comforting to see our things in the broad daylight hanging in a new home.

From that painting of the Chrysler building that we bought as we walked through Covent Garden that day, pondering the possibility of living together, to the crystal wine glasses your mother gifted us as a pre-wedding present.

I’ve made the right move to be alone, leaving behind the bosom of your family who cared for me so well in the aftermath of this awful loss.

I feel a new sense of life here in our old town.

A place I never imagined I could return to, Ostuni.

Our soul home.

I’m still meeting people, some for the first time since you died, who loved you and miss you deeply.

Today I went for lunch at one of our old spots and the waitress came to hug me, tears welling up in her eyes, 9 months now since you’ve been gone yet the first time we’ve reconnected.

Like many she looked me deeply in the eyes, shaking her head in disbelief.

It reminded me how loved you are & the beauty of community.

At a time like this I find comfort in their smiles and solidarity.

Who wants to be anonymous in their deepest suffering?

Even though I can put on a good front and a light-hearted show, it’s helpful that the world around me holds us tight, stays awake to our love and what has been.

On this journey of loss I see now there’s a difference between pity and despair.

The former is our natural human response to someone else’s pain, the latter is a result of not understanding the source of that pain.

I am grateful to know how the mind works and that as low as I go it’s a pity party, not a life of despair.

So here I am enjoying life, moving into a new home for now with all our things and wishing you were here.

All the while knowing you are.

Here in your loving non-physical form, watching over us all.

Love you always “me babe.”