La Rosa Gialla

Chapter 21

I'm very sorry about the depressing chapter, but we all knew it had to happen. 

Thank you for the reads and votes.

-B. 

February - August 2019

In January, I only managed to finish a few remaining exams and then everything went to shit. As soon as my mom's health worsened so much that my father was not able to take care of everything, I interrupted my studies and stayed in Gorzano. Everyone blamed me, mom, dad and Damiano. They wanted me to continue my studies because that was the most important thing in my life now according to them. But I dare to disagree. When one of your parents is so sick that he can't even stand on his feet, and the other is left to take care not only of the business and the house but also of the sick person, I think the school is suddenly not the most important thing.

I turned on the backup power unit I didn't know I had and I worked like a machine. I didn't notice what was happening around me at all. All my attention was focused on mom and how to make her as comfortable as possible. I devoted the rest of my energy to taking care of the household. Mom was falling apart in front of our eyes, and dad seemed to be her mirror. He devoted himself so much to my mom and worked so much that he forgot to eat and sleep, and suddenly I not only had a sick mother at home, but also a father who was just about to collapse.

Mom really wanted to spend her last moments at home with her family, and so it happened. She took her last breath on Monday, February 25, 2019 at 7:16 p.m. Me, Luca and dad were holding her hands and looking at each other with tears in our eyes. Then everything happened so quickly that my memories merged into one big confused blur. In the days leading up to the funeral, none of us spoke one word.

The memorial service for my mother took place in the church in the center of Maranello. In the same church where her wedding with dad took place more than 20 years ago. I had the feeling that probably all the people of Gorzano had come, because the church was bursting at the seams and the coffin was barely visible through the piles and piles of flowers. During the entire mass, Damiano held my arm and I held my father on the other side. We all had streams and streams of tears running down our faces. I couldn't get rid of the lump that had settled in my throat, so I preferred to just keep quiet for the next few days. There was nothing to say anyway. Luca and I just lost mom, dad lost his wife and best friend, and all of Gorzano lost a woman who was a source of light and good cheer wherever she appeared.

The urn was placed in the cemetery in Maranello a few days later, and in the following weeks there was not a day that I did not visit. Mostly with dad, sometimes alone. Luca returned to Rome because he knew that he would only be drowning in grief at home, and that mom would not want that. I knew she would slap us if she could.

"Are you coming with me, dad?" I asked him an everyday question. It's been 6 weeks since the funeral and some pink color has returned to his face. He still walked around like a body without a soul, but the work at the guest house and the nice weather kept him so busy that he didn't have much time for regrets. "New guests will arrive shortly. I'll go see her later," he smiled weakly at me and I smiled back. Then I got dressed, got into my Golf and drove to the florist for a fresh bouquet of pink gerberas. That was mom's favorite flower. The lady at the flower shop already remembered the order and I didn't even have to say it. I took the flower, said thank you, and drove the rest of the way to the cemetery.

As I approached the plaque with her name, I was immediately drawn to the striking yellow color in one of the vases. The main interest of the people had already subsided, but it still occasionally happened that one of the locals made a trip and brought her a fresh flower. But they were never yellow roses, because firstly, most people knew it was my favorite flower and not my mom's, and secondly, not many people put yellow roses on graves. Moreover, the bouquet couldn't have been there for very long, because it looked like it had been freshly bought. I looked around, but of course, the author was long gone.

In retrospect, I suspect that it was Charles who came to Maranello to see me, but never really found the courage to visit me. He never mentioned the yellow roses, but maybe he bought them for me, but because he didn't have the guts to come to me, he left them here at least for my mom.

Until the summer, I helped in the guest house, and the emptiness that all 3 of us had started to slowly heal. "Adri, it can't go on like this. You have to go back to school," my dad sat me down at the table on the patio one summer evening. "I know. I have thought about it a lot and I would like to change the scenery. I don't want to leave you here alone, but I would like to apply to a school in England," I blurted out, and dad looked at me a bit scared for a while, but finally nodded. "I think it's a good idea. Start living your own life again and stop looking at everyone else. I can handle it and I'm sure Damiano can too," he smiled. Oh no. Damiano. We haven't seen each other even once a week for the past months. We were more like pen pals, but I knew I just couldn't give him more than that at this point.

I sent the application a few days later and since I also documented my academic results for the first semester in Parma, they had no problem accepting me even without the entrance exams. I had mixed feelings, joy and fear, but I already knew inevitably that on September 16, my first semester at King's College in London would begin.