Fixed (temporarily) the problems with my friend computer staff (!?) Is ready to restart.
However the staff (if you have not understood me ...) has decided that today's post was to be dedicated to an important person, namely Ms. Giovanna.
Mrs. Joan was the "guardian" of our school in every sense. Both physical and spiritual.
Today at 15 o'clock we celebrated the funeral, in a beautiful church in our city.
After the ceremony many people gathered outside the church to greet relatives and many were hugs, there have been tears. Several people who have "lived" in our school (the former caretakers and former teachers and former students) will be repeated some time ago to our lives, making us remember moments of our past. He did a great sense.
E 'died Saturday in a beautiful sunny day. That day I walked the streets admiring its beauty, but for the first time I could not feel a part of all this vitality. I saw around me enjoy life, but I have not heard anything. I saw the sun, I saw the green, I saw happy children playing, tell me what could be more beautiful. I thought that after all the world still goes on even when a part of it ceases to exist, cease to be a part of tournament in which we stood.
It 's a beautiful thought and terrible at the same time.
Life is not certain, but everyone is afraid to talk about death. He runs away from talking about death as if unconsciously hoping to avoid. But it's not that she is in our game, we need to ask us a reason for what we are and what we are destined to become. Avoid the speech can not only increase the pain in my reckoning. At least that's what I think.
If I tell you I have never attended a funeral.
But for some reason, more than anything else I've been lucky to not have to fly out to see people from my life as so often happens and how many happen to those with later age. Long ago I did not go to the funeral of a person to whom I was quite fond of him, mainly for lack of courage, and I always regret. I still regret, indeed ...
So this time I've gotten it out of courage, of course, but that emotion.
As the coffin approached I started the heart beat and soon I was breathing quite labored. To think that a person who wanted a bit 'is good to so few feet of you, still, silent, without that spark that animates our bodies ... Well ... is a feeling that I've never tried.
I turned to my best friend, today offered himself as an organist, to search for a glimmer of security in his eyes, and thank goodness, I found it. I told him: "I can not breathe" and he reassured me, saying "Stay calm, now you see that you calm down."
I cried.
And I did not stop until the end, even while we had to sing, let alone when our comrades are lined up to read our letters to you, our memories of you, our feelings. Indeed, in those moments I have reviewed many of the scenes in the past lived with her and with other people, his manners, his advice, which was submerged in the books full time, the blame for that blessed port that never ended and that you had to be careful there little by little else came close to the drafts and she gets a damn .... dam and there that makes us stand firm has dropped dramatically. I did not own. My face was contorted in a mask of pain, but I was ashamed, why do not be ashamed to cry for those who have loved you. Even just a little '.
She loved books, but especially loved to look for. Try to go beyond the "normality" that pollutes our lives mocking and wonder of everyday life and its convenient form, wonder to what can be found in what we feel dry and empty and did so even through books, through the dictionary Italian, through the smiles, the recipes that occasionally passed through the strange look that never did not understand what he was thinking, chatting occasionally sip while waiting to ascend to the second hour because you were too late to get in time at eight.
She loved books, and more than once entered into our, and other classes, just to read a particular passage that had struck and enthusiasm. So, simply. Coming in and good morning, excuse me, ma'am have a minute? I would like to read a thing ... a beautiful thing. And drove off a wonderful smile.
I do not remember the last time when it happened, I think in the spring of last year. Related to Einstein, I think. But was not that stupid and the universe. God, I do not remember.
Ah, yes. It was a phrase that Einstein said that genius is not only pure intelligence brain, but the result of harmony between the various human intelligences, one of the most important was the emotional one. For all this may become "geniuses". These are the emotions to animate the man and be able to evolve, not cold science, in fact. But that's another story. :)
Its location was the chair placed in the school. It was always covered with logs, loose sheets, circulars and notices; was covered, too, of his beloved books (I read two or three at once), Dictionary, and a tiny map of cyclamen, which now had to leave room for a much more voluminous and ceremonial matt glass vase with fresh flowers in his honor. E 'in the corner, now, amid all the other plants that held there in the lobby, to make it less austere atmosphere of the salon. In a few days I will ask that endanger that jar back in its place, even if that someone showers, as often careless with pupils from backpacks abnormal. She raged so much, when I touched it.
But Mrs. Joan was not only that, it was much more, remember and talk about aspects of her makes me move in a way that I would say absurd, I just wanted to be able to learn more. I wanted to read too One day, a step that had hit me and tell her that I had finally understood the beauty of things, that his message had passed here, in the heart.
Goodbye Joan
Thanks
0 comments:
Post a Comment