38. Vinnie
Grief is a fickle thing. One moment, you can be going about your day as normal, and the next you’re breaking down in the middle of a busy sidewalk, so inundated with sadness it physically hurts to move.
My grief is like driftwood riding on an ocean wave—calm and steady, floating beneath the bright sun, until the tide picks up and suddenly the driftwood is pulled beneath a wave by force, unable to fight its way back to the surface until the water mollifies.
Throughout my days, I’m strong for my mother. I take on the planning of the funerals because she’s so consumed by her grief she can barely make it out of bed in the morning.
Every day passes like it’s been a thousand years, and I’m forced to hold it together for the sake of my family, until the night falls and I’m back home in Sly’s arms, where I can finally crumble.
My husband is my solace. Patient and kind, he holds me tightly in our bed, stroking my hair while he allows me to completely shatter, knowing it’s what I need to heal.
He feeds me. Makes sure I’m staying hydrated. Even bathes me when I’m too weak to do it myself.
I don’t know what I’d do without him.
I don’t know what I did to deserve him.
“Tell me what you need, piccola ladra,” he says, kissing my temple as the family limo pulls in front of the gravesite for my father’s funeral.
We buried my brother three days ago in a burial much smaller than the one planned for my father.
Looking out the window, there are a hundred or so chairs facing an open hole in the ground, and my father’s closed coffin held up by supports.
Almost every chair is filled, except for the front row, which has been saved for us.
Across the limo, mother sobs quietly into Luciano’s jacket as he holds her, and Samuele stares down at his lap, like he did the entire ride over.
“I don’t know what I need,” I tell Sly, answering his question. Sadness sits heavy in my chest and I know for the time being, there is no remedy.
The driver opens the door, and my husband slides out first, holding his hand to help me. I take it, and pull myself out, the skirt of my black dress billowing down to my knees as I stand. Lowering my sunglasses, I allow Sly to guide me over to the chairs as the rest of my family gets out of the limo.
An endless sea of black apparel and gloomy faces watches us all closely as we take our seats in the front row and wait for the eulogist to begin. Lacing my arm around Sly’s, he places his hand on my thigh, stroking it with his thumb. It brings me comfort and allows me to push back the tears I’m holding in.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” the eulogist greets. “It is with great sorrow that we gather here today to honor and remember a life who was not only impactful to his family, but to his community. Maurizio Paladino touched the lives of many, and to know him was to respect and appreciate the great gifts he gave to those whose lives he entered. I’d like to call upon his brother, Marcel, to speak a few words.”
My mother grabs my hand from my lap, pulling it into hers.
As my uncle begins to speak about my father, I close my eyes and let myself drift to the recesses of my mind in an effort to push past my grief. I think of my childhood and the happy memories with my father, seeing them flash through my mind like a movie in slow motion. The memories progress from my childhood to my adulthood, the recent years flashing through my mind more prominently—even the less than desirable moments. Then my thoughts drift to Sly, the baby, and the family we’re creating.
I lose all perception of how much time has passed, and before I know it, everyone is standing in preparation to say goodbye to my father for the last time.
One by one, guests step forward to pay their respects, placing a rose on top of his casket or simply touching the side of it. They give us their condolences, and many hug my mother, praising her strength, and my father’s life and accomplishments.
I don’t hear a word that is said, but beside me, Sly thanks each person who steps forward to speak to us.
The only thing I’m feeling is numb when it’s finally just my family left at the gravesite.
My mother’s tears have intensified, and this time, it’s Samuele who comforts her, sitting with her, rubbing her back.
“Are we ready?” a man asks, approaching with another. He gestures to the coffin.
Luciano nods, his voice strained when he answers, “Yes.”
Sly and I walk to the side of the grave, standing with my brother as we watch the men lower my father in the ground.
Birds chirp around us, and a light breeze blows, reminding me that love still continues, even when it feels like it’s standing still.
I wish I had more time. I’m not ready to say goodbye.
Tears line my lashes, spilling over silently. Sly wraps his arm around my shoulders, rubbing the top of my arm, trying to bring me a sense of comfort.
But I realize at this moment, through all of his flaws, all I really want is one more hug from my father.
“I can’t believe this is it,” Luciano comments, his jaw clenched. I can see him forcing the emotions back, refusing to let them show. “I wasn’t prepared to say goodbye so soon.”
“Neither was I.”
When the coffin is completely lowered, the men give us privacy. The five of us just stare at the top of the mahogany box my father rests in, and I can’t help but wonder if I should have brought roses to place on top of it as well.
“I’m going to wait in the car with Mom,” Samuele tells us, guiding her past the grave. She glances in and stifles another sob, leaning into him for support.
“Be there soon,” Luciano confirms. Walking over to the mound of dirt next to the grave, he picks up a handful, then walks back over to stand beside me. “Until we meet again, Father. I’ll miss you,” he speaks quietly, then he lets the dirt fall from his hand and onto the casket.
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I go pick up my own handful of dirt and hold it above where my father rests. Everything I want to say to him escapes me, so I simply whisper, “I love you, Daddy.” Then I let the dirt fall as I cry.
Lifting my sunglasses, I wipe the tears before resting them on top of my head.
Luciano stares blankly at where the dirt just landed, not looking at me as he says the thing that’s been haunting the back of my mind for the last several days. “Father is gone now, Vinnie, and so is Joseph. I’ve made it very clear I want nothing to do with the businesses, which means they fall to you. What are you going to do with them?”
Sly reaches down and laces his fingers through mine, and I recognize it as a sign of solidarity. Whatever decision I make, he supports me.
I’ve been thinking about this moment all week, knowing the decision would have to be voiced. It’s weighed heavily on me, but I know in my heart it’s the right choice, and the only one I can imagine making.
A small smile upturns the corner of my lips as a sense of peace washes over me—perhaps, after everything that’s happened, Father would support this decision too.
The only thing the businesses have done in my life has been to destroy one of the relationships I valued most.
Looking at Luciano, I utter the two words that my intuition has been screaming at me for days, feeling ready to close the door on this chapter of our lives.
“Dismantle them.”