I ended the visit to Salerno on a good note, wish I can say that the whole visit was positive. While it was really good to see many of my relatives again (didn’t get to see all of them, at no fault of my own), there were some strange politics afoot.
Apparently, the relationship among my aunts and my uncle have been a bit less than harmonious lately. Stemming from a tiff over the family home and land, among other issues, relations have been strained. I found myself hearing different sides of a story and how things are broken in the family, only to find myself wishing I didn’t inquire so much about things. After all, the reason I was there in the first place was to deliver my mom’s ashes to the family, and that was plenty enough to deal with.
Needless to say, there were many fragile feelings and other emotions at work. I think my mom would have been sad to see all that had transpired among the siblings, although I know that she’s been known to be the cause of a strain or two among them in her lifetime. I more or less diplomatically asked my aunts and uncles to park any issues they had toward each other by the wayside so we can accomplish the matter of getting my mom buried with their parents as she wished. They all more or less went along, thankfully.
The plan was to have my mom buried at the local cemetery in her hometown of Vatolla, where my grandfather, grandmother, and umpteen other relatives are stored (they’re all in graves that are above ground). My Uncle Donato handled the particulars about getting the grave opened. Apparently, the cemetery told him that it was easier to get my grandfather’s grave opened, rather than my grandmother’s due to logistical issues. My grandmother’s grave was in the bottom of the crypt, and therefore more difficult to open for some reason. I told them that I didn’t think it mattered all that much which grave her ashes were in, and they should just go for whatever was less difficult and costly. My Aunt Nunziatina (the eldest of the brood), put her foot down and insisted that they open their mother’s grave.
Unfortunately, when they opened the grave, they found that she was in a sealed coffin. By Italian law, you cannot open a grave with a coffin in it, nor can you open the coffin. So, the cemetery had to immediately reseal that grave with mortar. The marble facestone had been broken in order to open the grave, and needed to be replaced. I didn’t know any of this until the morning that we were to put my mom’s ashes into the grave. So, when we were all there, the guy from the cemetery was kinda hot, my aunts and my uncle were too.
Everybody was upset and sort of pointing fingers at each other. It was rather comedic, in an insane kinda way. To add another level of bizarre to this whole thing, there was a local COP on the scene. Who, for some reason, had to check the grave when it was opened. He was to make sure that everything was in compliance. I was in complete disbelief. Doesn’t this cop have anything better to do than deal with a delicate issue like a family burial in such a way? He was rather adamant that we have the documentation for my mom. Which I had, just not with me. That set off another firestorm of fingerpointing, mostly at me.
After all was said and done, my mom’s ashes were placed into a metal case, and slipped into the grave that held my grandfather. He was not in a coffin. So, in a macabre fashion, his bones were swept up and placed in a matching metal case before we got there. Some of my aunts and cousins who were nice enough to attend this affair brought flowers, which they placed in the opening of the grave. The grave was to be sealed up later that day.
I found myself exhausted and relieved that this had finally come to pass. It was a bit of a journey for me, but not the kind I’m used to. My mom was in her final resting place, and somehow all her siblings came together (mostly) to make it happen. So all was good. Mom got what she wanted. I’m glad that I was able to play a small part in it.
My last night in Salerno was the best night, my Aunt Nunziatina planned a dinner at her son Franco’s waterfront restaurant. A good cross-section of my dozens of cousins showed up for that. All the sisters and my uncle were there, in respect for my mom. That was rather nice to see, and apparently it hasn’t happened in a great many years. I got to see a few cousins that I hadn’t had a chance to see while I was there for whatever reason. It was a great dinner, good food, wine, lots of laughs reminiscing about my mom and our many visits to Italy when I was young, picture-taking, and just general catching up and I was glad to be there representing our little branch of “la famiglia”.
The next morning I was on a train back to Rome, where I was to catch a flight to Prague later that day. A couple of my Prague friends talked me into coming to Prague and meeting up with them, and it wasn’t a difficult offer to resist. I had to reschedule a couple of flights, but it worked out pretty painlessly, so I went for it. But it did mean I had to leave Italy a day earlier than originally, so I wasn’t going to spend another day with Luigi and Luisa up in Rome before flying out. But I talked with them, and it’s all good, because they’ll be back in Guatemala in a few weeks anyway.
So now I’m in Prague, taking in a few days of hanging out in a city I fell in love with last year. One of my Prague friends, Tom, has me going on a train to Ostrava, a place I was supposed to go to with him last year. Hope I make it this time.
Alas, the trip is coming to an end pretty soon, and I’m looking forward to being back on Andiamo again a little more than a week from now.