May in Italy (Monday) with Leo

Leo and I saw each other today. It's been six months since our last short visit. He looks much better. As the car pulled up he was in the front passenger seat. He jumped right out of the car to greet me. He was wearing his busto (backbrace).

Nothing has changed between us. I still feel 100 % connected to Leo. I think he was surprised. Not that we don't write to each other, every day. I can hardly stand not having our daily or weekly talks.

Our phone calls are based on his availability to be alone and this has not happened often these past twelve months. I cannot complain, as our situation is out of our control right now. It's no one's fault.

The multiple myeloma has been contained, but the damage to his back and psyche remain. He needs assistance to tie his shoes, as the busto tightly surrounds his body and protects his spine as it heals. His independence and mobility have been further reduced by a crippling depression, which has been difficult to overcome.

My son Chris put it well...it's a tragedy. However, Leo does look better. His eyes, though not sparkling, were focused and direct. We hugged for a long long time. We had two and a half wonderful hours alone and we never let go of each other.

Thank you kind soul, who made this possible for us. Grazie dal cuore...

We sat, then walked and made our way  up the road to the lovely church, San Miniato, which overlooks all of Firenze.

Later, Leo easily navigated the stairs from San Miniato down to a nearby gelato stand. We shared two cups of gelato.

This place has a special memories for us. Leo brought me here over 11 years ago and treated me to my first Italian gelato.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Miniato_al_Monte

We talked and talked, which we still can do with total honestly. We trust and understand each other. I love and am loved in this Italian language.

I was relieved to hear Leo's wife has made a significant change in her attitude toward Leo. He does not feel locked in a prison now, thank goodness. Our situation would be impossible to tolerate if I didn't know this.

What's most important is that Leo is comfortable and lives in a peaceful environment. She helps him every day and I think they have become friends again. This is good.

I don't regret one second of these eleven years we have had together. It does make me cringe and hide my anger today when I see that my loving touch to his face or his hair is not something he feels at home. Pain...

I know the pain he feels because I feel it too. My question has always been, how can two people live together to escape loneliness but miss feeling the joy of love?

Recently, I have been reading Italian, semi-biographical, novels by Fabio Volo. He has helped me to understand the culture of a whole generation of married couples, who live together, but have somehow lost touch with each other. 

Leo and I have had many discussions about family. We have a basic disagreement on this topic. He believes in sacrificing all of one's self to maintain the "family." For me, the obligation stops when all of one's children reach the age of maturity.

Each person has a right to live their own life fully. I also strongly believe we owe it to our children to be good role models. This includes taking charge of one's life and making difficult changes, if necessary. There is no doubt in my mind that the stress Leo has endured for so many years inside his home, has caused this cancer.

Invisible cultural mores have bound Leo and I accepted this, out of love. During his recent university studies, Leo tracked the historical waves of immigrants who left Italy for other shores. This exodus was based on various yearnings. I suspect many had a desire to escape cultural restraints.

On the positive side, Leo and I have been one of the lucky ones. I need to focus on this. True love does exist in a dimension in which the soul feels love, even in the absence of a physical presence. Regardless, I want to just cry and call out the unfairness of it all.

Leo is alive...and we need to be very grateful for this.