Sorrow and Gratitude
Any trip has its ups and downs. A year long-trip around the world is bound to have many. Like so much in life it is how you respond to the difficult situations you will confront that shapes your experience of them.
Planning to be away from home for the year, we knew we’d miss Halloween with our friends, Thanksgiving with Ben’s family in Kentucky, and Christmas with my family in Connecticut. We also knew there would be life events that we wouldn’t be home for – a friend’s wedding, a cousin’s sold-out concert in Vegas, a family member’s milestone birthday. Still, we hoped that we would avoid someone close to us becoming ill or dying while we were away. However, it was not meant to be.
After a spectacular series of unfortunate events surrounding our arrival in Sicily (multi-hour delayed flight, 2am arrival, rental car place closed, cut-throat competition (Sicilians can be ruthless – hello Godfather) for the very few cabs arriving at the airport at 2am, flood-level rains, broken gate preventing access to the road), we thought the worst was behind us. Our VRBO host was still up waiting for us at 3am, she even came and helped us open the broken gate and find our rental home in the dark (Sicilians can also be incredibly hospitable). She had even left us a delicious assortment of Italian meats, cheeses, bread, cookies, and wine. We devoured the thoughtful gifts and finally made our way to bed (at 3am) in what looked to be a beautiful, spacious, villa. Our home for the next two weeks.
Before our heads hit the pillows, we received a call from my brother back home in Connecticut. My father’s younger brother, my Uncle Rodger had died unexpectedly at 63 years old of a heart attack while out hunting in the woods behind our homes (my family is very close – both figuratively and literally - as my father and two of his 5 brothers live next to one another).
My youngest brother David, and my cousin Danny (Rodgers son) and his wife went out searching for him after his daughter called to say he should have been home by now. Rodger’s death was a complete shock and understandably hit my father and mother hard. It was also a traumatic event for my brother, cousin, and his wife, who found him in the woods.
Before hanging up the phone, we had my parents booked on the first available flight back home. The next morning my brother Billy, who was planning to be with us for another week and I found tickets to get us back as well. We decided Ben and the kids would stay in Sicily and we’d all meet back together at our next destination, also in Sicily, in a week or two.
Leaving Sicily was easier than getting in, but not without a few harrowing moments, including the flooding of several roads between our villa and the airport due to a “Medicane” – think Hurricane, but in the Mediterranean Sea. Unfortunately, for Ben and the kids, the Medicane would sit over Sicily for the next 2 weeks and so they were homebound for much of their time in Sicily. Thankfully, the kids were ready for a break from all the travel and actually loved the chance to get caught up on school work, watch movies in the villa’s movie room, refine their Euchre and Backgammon skills, and generally just relax.
The unexpected trip home was a sad reminder that tomorrow is not promised to anyone, that you must make the most of today, and that showing up for your family is always the right decision. I’m so grateful we were able to make it home for the wake and funeral; that we had the financial means to do so, that the flights worked out for us to all get back in time to help support our family, that my husband and kids are so awesome and capable of making the most of a less than ideal situation, and that I got to see so many family members and friends during my short trip home, many of whom I hadn’t seen in over two years because of COVID.
Ultimately, my cousins did an amazing job planning a service and remembrance that reflected who my uncle was. In my cousin Vanessa’s words, my uncle was a simple man, who loved his family, enjoyed nature and hunting, and got the greatest joy out of hanging with his grandson Michael. He was not religious and never stayed at an event long. At the wake, my cousins set up poster boards filled with pictures of my Uncle with his family or the wild game he’d caught. Most touching was a display they created of one of his hobbies, designing and handmaking fishing flies. There was no church service, but remarks made at the funeral home before heading to the cemetery. My Uncle was buried at the Grano Family plot in Cedar Hill Cemetery in Hartford, CT where my great grandparents, grandparents, great uncles and aunts are all buried. The headstone bares the Grano Family crest and an inscription my Uncle Joey, my father’s oldest brother, authored:
The roots were in Italy,
the dream was in America,
the life was family and friends,
the legacy is our children
