Granpa

Last day Grandpa finished writing his story. Some call it the 'last chapter,' but I see it more as the sacred moment the pen is passed from his hand to ours.

It isn't easy for me, but I find comfort in thinking that this is the completion of a lifelong work of art.

It’s a bit like listening the Grand Crescendo of a great opera, where every note comes together and everything finally makes sense.

A melody that doesn't stop. It lingers in the air, one you keep singing in your mind.

Grandpa’s life was not a random collection of days, but one single, precious story.

This is what life truly is.

In this final stretch of the road, so exhausting yet so profound, he showed us dignity in fragility and the courage to let himself be loved in his dependence.

Now, that pen passes to us.

His story has become part of our own. His virtues, his kindness, his honesty, the way he looked at us, are now golden threads woven into the fabric of your life, and into all of our lives.

We are his continuation, the living proof that goodness is never lost.

Cherish this story, Angelica. Honor Grandpa by continuing to write your own story with the same depth with which he wrote his.

We are the guardians of his memory, and as long as we tell his story, his book will remain open in our hearts.

Ciao, mio caro Papa' 💖

Sorrento, 12th January 2026