20 February, Monday – Loss

I made my way to the airport by bus to get my new group. There are six of them, three couples. We came back to the island by taxi, then a water taxi to the E&R. I got them checked in and since their rooms weren't ready yet (it was only 10 AM) we headed out for the sites in San Marco. These folks have appointments to to rent costumes for the final day of Carnevale, so their appointment for fittings and selections was later in the afternoon. They weren't going to any masquerade balls; they just wanted to dress in costume and walk around on Tuesday. Good for them.

We did the sites in the Piazza – the basilica, the campanile, the Doge's Palace and even the Clock Tower before heading back. I showed them into Vino Vino for lunch and told them I would meet them at the hotel at five for their appointment with the Atelier. Three hours was sufficient time for them to eat, do some souvenir shopping without me and get back to the hotel. I needed to get back and do some correspondence.

I got the email I had been dreading. My sister in law Lisa had passed away the night before. My heart is still heavy and it has taken me all these weeks to try and wrap my emotions up to try and explain this particular day. Even at this writing, almost six weeks later, I can barely bring myself to write about this day.

I didn't know her as long as the many others who have known and loved her; I met her in 2003 when she and Keith found each other again. But she and I had an instant friendship, a kindred I haven't had with another woman. I think so much of it came from the fact that we love those Strange boys, Mark and Keith. Two similar women married to brothers who are very similar themselves. I hear her laughter, her particular ways of phrasing her speech, her self-deprecating humor. We were similar in so many ways. She was honestly the older sister I didn't have. I hate that she isn't here physically to share in the joys of all our lives any longer, because the woman loved to celebrate any occasion. This doesn't begin to explain her. I don't think I can, or will ever be able to define the amazing woman she is.

She had been battling colon cancer and “the nasties” as she called them, for a year and a half. Shortly before I left she had announced that she would be transitioning to hospice care. I spent a day with her, both of us knowing it would be for the last time. We had heartfelt talks, just as we always do, but this time with special instructions from her imploring me to take care of Keith, and to remain in contact with Keeva – her granddaughter. Lisa said she wanted Keeva to grow up knowing me because she and I have so much of the same spirit.

(Oh this is killing me trying to write this...)

So even though it was expected, and even welcomed so that she faced no more pain, the news of her passing hit me harder than I would have expected. I was more than 6000 miles away from my family and my support network of comforting people. I have felt so incredibly guilty for not being there, even though everyone had told me beforehand not to feel that way when the inevitable happened. I know Keith was surrounded by friends and family and me not being present was probably not a big deal, but I needed to be with people I love. It's just what you do when this happens. Calling on the phone and talking to my husband and then my mother, just crying and crying and crying, it wasn't cathartic at all. I felt alone.

I called back to Connecticut to the company HQ and let them know I would need to be getting a replacement in place soon. They have been aware of the impending situation and had told me that all I needed was to say the word and they would get me back home. However...

My next group was a referral from former clients, and they had specially requested me. Oy. Work therefore asked me to please think about staying for that group; they could ask them if they wanted to reschedule, but I read between lines and took it to mean that I really should stay if at all possible because the clients had just dropped tens of thousands of dollars and requested me specially. To add to it, the replacement wouldn't be able to come until the 28^th. So there you have it. I couldn't really leave until the 29^th. What if it had been one of my parents passing unexpectedly? I can assure you I would have been on the next plane out. Oh well, suck it up. All I could do was hope that my family would be setting the memorial service up for a few weeks later. Lisa had told me that she wouldn't be buried and services wouldn't happen immediately. There was a particular priest she wanted ans they would need to schedule with. Mentally I crossed my fingers and hoped I would be able to attend.

I had to fix myself up to look human and rejoin my clients, even though I looked like I had been punched in the face with sandbags. It was going to be a sunglasses kind of day, even after sunset.

I got back to the hotel and met my people in the lobby and told them I had received bad news from home, and to please bear with me. They were so very kind to me. I took them to their appointment with the Atelier Flavia folks, who had a ballroom reserved at the Europa with racks of costumes and accessories to choose from.

I went back out to the lobby, caught Marco's eye and motioned for him to meet me outside in the courtyard. He knew by looking at me that I was shook up and upset. Hell, people from a block away would be able to discern that I think. I told him what had happened. He knew about Lisa's illness and asked what he could do to help me out.

And I completely lost my composure. I told him I needed Mamma. I had been there for them in their grieving and I didn't have my family now, didn't have my mother here to comfort me and I needed to borrow his. I told him I would get a car and drive down to Bologna myself to get her if I had to, but please, get her here. It wasn't a pretty scene to see I am sure. This was a big ol' snotfest. Didn't want to get his uniform dirty, but he just kept hugging me and gave me his handkerchief, letting me soil his lapels while he called his cousin in Bologna and asked if they could put her on the train that evening. They said they'd drive her immediately. And I just kept crying. Where do all the tears come from? Just when you think you don't have any more, another flood of them arrives.

We would meet his cousin at Piazzale Roma in three hours to bring Mamma home. I went back inside, stopping in the bathroom to attempt to wash my face, and back to the clients. They had made some lovely selections. The men were not so enthused about the fancy shoes with a bit of a heel on them, higher than I ever wear, in fact. They were good sports about the whole thing. The costumes would be delivered to their rooms for the next day while they were out for their gondola ride and at dinner that evening. I walked them back outside to the gondola station and they took their ride. I bid them goodnight and thanked them for putting up with my personal problem. Not a problem, they insisted. We agreed that tomorrow would be a better day.

I waited around for an hour for Marco to finish work. He asked me when I had eaten and I told him breakfast so we went for a pizza on our way to the station. We were not waiting very long at Piazzale Roma when his cousin called to say they were driving on the causeway from the mainland. A couple of minutes later, the car wasn't even at a full stop when Mamma was opening the door to get out and hug me, issuing forth another flood of tears. “Kricka Kricka mia Kricka... mi manchi!” She missed me. We thanked them for coming so quickly, got her suitcase and went to the vaporetto. She held my hand the whole time, not letting go for a minute. Barely kissed her son hello, but she was gripping me like I was going to disappear.

We got back to Giudecca and Marco opened a bottle of wine, which we drank pretty quickly, and he opened another, as we sat watching tv. Mamma was in between us, holding our hands or patting us on the leg occasionally. “Miei figli.” My children.

Got her settled into bed after a negotiation that I would come over first thing in the morning and take her to church. I was pretty tipsy, but finally not crying at the drop of a hat. I wasn't meeting my people until 10AM, so I would be back to take her to church at 7:30. Marco came with me to the vaporetto stop, probably to make sure I didn't fall into the water. I thanked him for calling his cousin. “Niente.” It is nothing.

Only it's not. It meant everything to me.

This was a face of bravery. Lisa Frances Benedetti Strange. One of the most amazing human beings I have ever had the privilege of knowing. I am proud to have been able to call you sister, family, friend. I already miss you Lisa, even though you remain here in my heart always.