‘Dad was a man of many words, and almost as many opinions.’ The crack of Alessandro’s voice couldn’t be muffled by the Zoom call as he stood at the lectern, Lidia dutifully by his side. ‘Always one to argue a point – his point, of course – there’s no one better placed to give this eulogy this morning than him.’ He gave a sideways glance to someone out of shot, and suddenly the view on Matthew’s laptop changed.
Andrea’s face filled the screen, and Sarah felt Matthew go limp beside her.
‘Well. If you’re watching this, it means I’m gone. And I’m sorry that you’ve had to gather on account of me, looking so sad. Please don’t be. It means that this cancer finally got the best of me, but the pain has finally died. Like me.’ He gave an impish laugh, which they could hear drew a similar response from those gathered in the church. ‘I’ve been thinking a lot over these past few years about the lasting legacy I hope my life will have.’ He paused, allowing the word to simmer. ‘Legacy. It’s not about birthright, or inheritance. It’s the endowment you give to others by living your life to its full potential. It’s always about others. And community. We are only as strong as those who are weakest by our side. We will fail. We will make mistakes. But it is in rising again that we show our true strength, and that is always together.
‘I have lived a very privileged life. I have never gone without and I have been blessed with much joy. My parents were tremendous people. My brother, Alberto, taught me the value of trust and respect.’ Sarah reached across Matthew and gave Alberto’s arm a squeeze in support, which he registered with a gentle nod. ‘My darling wife, Maria, showed me a love I have never been able to replicate to the power of her example. My son, Alessandro, is more like me than either of us would ever care to admit, for better and worse. I hope I’ve been able to make up for some of my failings as a father in my love and care for Matteo.’ Andrea paused for a moment, causing Matthew to hold his breath. ‘Matteo taught me what it is to be loyal to family and to the land of our family. He carries the weight of our legacy on his shoulders, and I hope you will all support him as he continues our journey.’ Matthew leaned forward, as if engaged in a personal conversation with Andrea, whose eyes narrowed, delivering one final direct message to his grandson. ‘Love comes first. It always should. Then the rest. Because love is what makes you complete. When you are full and whole, only then can you be the best version of yourself for the rest of life to happen.’ Andrea’s eyes relaxed and he seemed to ease into the pillow propped behind his back. ‘Now, go, all of you. I hope someone has organised a decent coffee for you. Be kind to each other. I miss you already.’
He gave a wave similar to the final salute he gave Matthew, but this time, the cannula was gone from his hand, leaving in its wake a purple bruise that would never have a chance to heal.
Andrea gave a gentle smile and the footage ended.
Unable to sleep, despite the early morning hours, Matthew, Sarah and Alberto gathered around his dining table in Palazzo D’Adamo, swapping stories and memories about Andrea. They had slowly picked their way through a fruit platter, but nothing seemed to taste right.
Alberto stepped away for a moment, returning with a white envelope. He sat down opposite Matthew and Sarah and slid it across the table. ‘For you.’ He indicated with raised eyebrows. ‘Your Nonno Andrea wanted you to have this.’
It was closed with an ornate Florentine wax seal, and his name,Matteo Andrea D’Adamo, was handwritten by a master calligrapher across the front.
‘What is it?’ he asked, turning it over in his hand.
‘I don’t know. I was given strict instructions to ensure you received it after . . . well.’
Sarah and Matthew shared a look of concern before he picked the wax seal with the short edge of his fingernail. Tipping the envelope on its side, a document slipped into his hand.
Matthew righted the papers and began to read. Almost immediately, the tears resumed. ‘It’s a copy of his will.’
Sarah leaned over as far as her chair would allow, embracing Matthew from the side.
His legal eyes knew exactly what he was reading, and scanned with years of practised ease. Then suddenly, he stopped and his eyebrows pulled together tightly. He re-read the paragraph, blinking through his disbelief. Dropping the papers, he turned to Sarah and said, ‘He’s left his entire estate to me.’
Alberto’s eyes widened, and his curiosity pricked. ‘And your father?’
Matthew’s eyes continued to scan. He shook his head. ‘Not directly. But there’s a list of requests here . . .’ He tapped the pile of pages on the table to realign their edges, and both Sarah and Alberto leaned over to read with him. ‘. . . bequest my estate in its entirety to the care and ownership of my grandson, Matteo Andrea D’Adamo. He must divide the estate as follows: provide financial support to his extended family, including my son, Alessandro Andrea D’Adamo, ensure adequate financial provision for himself and his future family and establish a network of trusts and scholarships to support others and communities in the development of causes we are passionate about.’ Confused, he set the papers down. ‘He’s trusting me to manage it all.’
Alberto gave a twinkling green-eyed smile that immediately reminded Matthew of Andrea’s. ‘I’m not at all surprised.’
‘He trusted you more than anyone, it would seem,’ Sarah soothed, as they lay in bed an hour later.
Matthew snuggled closer into the nape of her neck, blinking through the sting that etched at his dry eyes. ‘I’m going to do my best to make him proud.’
‘He was already proud of you, Matthew.’
Wrapping his arms a little tighter around her middle, he kissed the line of her collarbone. ‘Thank you for being here for me through this.’
Her right hand continued to caress the back of his head. ‘I wouldn’t be anywhere else.’
Matthew closed his eyes and allowed his desire for sleep to take hold.
Noting the change in his breath as he finally succumbed, Sarah continued to show her affection all the same. If Matthew needed to be strong, now, more than ever, was the time. It meant that she had to mirror that force and stand aligned with him. She didn’t know what their future looked like – or if she even had a future by his side. All she knew was that she wanted to do something for Matthew, something to help him move through his grief and remember happy memories with fondness and joy.
For now, though, she chose only to focus on the way his hands clung fiercely to her, even in his sleep.
trentaquattro
Matthew moved in and out of the immediate phases of grief; from shock and guilt, to denial, he was on a rollercoaster ride of emotions.
Sarah, as his confidante and partner, walked every high and low with him. She wished she could ease the burden and relieve the pain somehow, but all she could offer was her care, attention and empathy. Matthew was grateful for her endless support, but found himself also needing moments of stillness and quiet to understand his emotions alone. These were mostly spent with his journal. It was his process, and Sarah lovingly gave him the space to do so.
What Sarah really wanted was to find a material way of celebrating his nonno’s life, perhaps in the form of something Matthew could treasure and pass on in turn. She had let this desire simmer since the funeral and couldn’t settle on anything that would be truly fitting.
