I can still feel my Grandma Elsie's hand in mine. Just holding our hands wasn’t enough; she needed you to know she was really there with an occasional squeeze. With my Grandpa, Mike, she fiercely taught us about the importance of family and connection. I imagine her as the center of a network of nerves, all of them stretching out to the many people she loved.
Those connections reached far and wide, including to her extended family in Fruili, Italy. When I was 12, my grandparents introduced me and my sister, Danielle, to international travel and to my Italian family. It changed my life. I’ll never forget my cousins (whom I’d never met) greeting us at the Venice airport with huge and handmade welcome signs. The whole family came out with multiple cars to meet us! We felt like celebrities.
After day trips to Venice and Florence with my grandparents and extended family, I wanted only to see more. But the famous sites in these historic cities weren’t the point of the journey. We spent our weeks in the courtyards of Bertiolo (our family village not far from Venice) talking, laughing, and eating. That was the point.
We are currently in Venice, and it has me reminiscing. I love it here for many reasons, but mostly because of nostalgia and the connection to my Grandma and Grandpa. I have so many memories of the day we spent here (one vivid memory is my Grandma scolding our laughter at an unfortunate woman, wearing all white, who tripped and rolled down the stairs from the train station to the canal-I still chuckle and then feel badly about it).
This week, I introduced my twins, Ollie and Elsie, to Bertiolo. Henri had been there once, several years ago. The hospitality and love, despite our language barrier, of my Italian relatives never ceases to move me.
We spent the day laughing, talking (sometimes through google translate), and eating-the local and authentic food here is unbelievable. The next generation swam, played, and stretched our connection even further. We remembered those that are no longer with us and hoped they could see us together. The hours went by too quickly.
There is a genuine warmth here that goes beyond just my family. We stopped briefly at Grossutti’s (the local vineyard) bar to have some wine. Bertiolo is not a village of tourists; we stood out when other patrons heard us speaking English. Shortly after our arrival, the owner of Grossutti appeared to inquire about our visit. When my cousin explained that we were their American relatives, he immediately offered us a personal tour of the facilities (at a separate location). We all piled in the car and he jumped on his bicycle to their family business. We were so touched by his generosity (he gave us several gift bottles) and hospitality, simply because we were visitors in his village.
My grandparents died more than 10 years ago, but I think of them daily. I wish that they could’ve met Henri, the twins, and all their great-grandchildren. But I feel them with me still. I am so grateful for their example that people are what matter most, not “things”. My parents carry that torch and Henri and I strive to as well-it’s one of the major reasons we decided to pursue this year abroad.
Thanks for reading. Wishing all of you moments of happy reminiscing and connection.
Love,
Steph