Italian version

Some parents find themselves having to cope with the death of a child. My friend Paolo has decided to share the letter he wrote in response to a friend some time after the death of his son Riccardo, who died at the age of 52 in 2022 from pancreatic cancer. Here is the text.

Dear Barbara,
I received your letter ten days ago, but I’ve only just decided to reply. Your letter meant a lot to me: you were the only one who used pen and paper, and I do the same.
You tell me that the people we have loved never abandon us, and I believe that to be true as well. At Riccardo’s memorial service, I spoke first, sharing the metaphor of the wave and the ocean. Riccardo is the wave—like all of us, who are waves of the sea—that has finished its course and dissolved. But the water that formed the wave has not been lost; rather, it has dispersed into the neighboring waves, contributing to the continuation of their lives—our lives.
All of us, therefore, his loved ones, are the ones carrying on his journey.

After me, and Alessandro and Valerio, who remembered their brother, several people with whom Riccardo had lived took turns at the microphone. Of course, not everyone spoke, both because of time constraints and because it’s not easy to find your voice when emotion prevents you from speaking.
Riccardo was remembered by his musician friends, the members of his bands, his students from the “Drum Circle”—all dressed in red—his music therapy colleagues, and the people whom Riccardo helped to enrich their lives by overcoming insecurities and fears.
What emerged was a portrait of Riccardo that revealed a gentle giant full of humanity and love for others—a musician capable of guiding others and drawing out the magic of music, the magic of the deep connection of hearts that rhythm and notes can awaken.
And it was magical when everyone realized that Riccardo’s energy had indeed flowed into all of us: a shared sense of feeling more alive, kinder, more centered in that moment that united us and made us feel part of a common, all-encompassing whole.

I’ve been with Riccardo over the past month. Starting with the diagnosis in October, his condition had steadily worsened. It was an ordeal of tests and treatments in an attempt to turn things around, but the situation only grew worse.
Throughout it all, Riccardo never let himself be overcome by despair or discouragement. He was confined to the sofa, but when his son Andrea came home from school, he always had a smile for him and listened intently to his stories about the day. He even found a way to play with him, despite his limitations. He radiated serenity. He put those around him at ease. And he never stopped living.

A week before he died, one morning in that splendid October—with the view of the olive trees and the distant sea streaming in through the open window—Riccardo found the strength to pick up a small Brazilian guitar, whose name I don’t recall, to replace the strings that weren’t suitable, to tune it perfectly, and to study the best chords for playing Brazilian music. By the end of the morning, he began composing a “bossa nova,” both sweeping and melancholic at the same time.
And it was Riccardo, so full of life, who, one afternoon two days later, received a phone call: a friend of his asking to meet him. This person, as Riccardo later explained to me, is a gambling addict with hidden and confused talents as musician. Riccardo had encouraged him to embark on a path of study and dedication. He had connected him with a music band, which suited his vocal and cultural characteristics. At the end of the call, he told: “Sure, call me whenever you want, don’t worry!”

Fantastic! Everyone loved him.
I remember when, as a student in the engineering program—more to please me than out of any real calling—after just one year and having passed only three exams, he came to me and confessed that engineering wasn’t right for him: he wanted to be a musician, a percussionist.
I confess I was disappointed: I feared a life of hardship for him, chasing a success that was extremely difficult and never guaranteed. I said nothing except to encourage him to commit to this path, which I would support anyway.
I never could have imagined how much richness and love that path would bring. A world apart from a path paved with models and formulas certainly not suited to training the heart.

Paolo, Riccardo’s dad

If you like, send your comments to info@esperienzedivalore.it, I will be happy to reply.

Translated with DeepL.com (free version)