97 years ago. I find it strange and somehow revealing that my father didn’t mention my mother’s name – after all seems she played an important part in this event.
The years have passed, and now that I am 97 I find myself thinking of the many things I wish I had done, or had not done, of the many friends for whom I am grateful. The things I have read and felt and perhaps still hope to feel, come crowding in.
I don’t remember when I first read Thornton Wilder’s The Bridge of San Luis Rey. But the words of the old Abbess as she tries to understand why it was just those five who fell when the bridge gave way have remained with me over the years as I think of those I have loved and those who have loved me. “Soon we shall die and all memory of those five will have left the earth, and we ourselves shall be loved for a while and forgotten. But the love will have been enough; all those impulses of love return to the love that made them. Even memory is not necessary for love. There is a land of the living and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love, the only survival, the only meaning...” And to give this sort of love is something most of us are incapable of. We give our small jot of love to those we know, as best we can. And perhaps it is in the giving that we truly live.
It is 1955. My mother has just recently left the land of the living and I seek comfort in the world of nature. It is almost twilight. The sky is still blue with indistinct clouds here and there taking on the colors, the tenuous hues, of the end of the day. Above, a gull wings by. Large and close enough to see its various colors – greys and tans and whites. Another one, they seem to circle over the house, over the hill. Nearby a small black flutter, rapid wings of some tiny bird. The trees are full of sounds and leaves don’t hide the branches yet, or the multitude of small silhouettes of birds that flit and hop from branch to branch. The air has that tangible quality it sometimes has in Italy – in the distance, but one hardly notices it, Orvieto glows softly. There is a feeling of absolute quiet – except that it is not quiet, not with all the bird sounds, and in the background the trucks and cars one no longer hears. There is a feeling of peace. I feel my mother’s presence somehow – hers, for she had so much love to give and it is love that fills the air. I can feel it almost swirling around, entering all it touches, like the wind. A magic moment that in its holiness makes one feel part of it all.
How important it is to know that there is someone with whom we can exchange our thoughts, that there is someone who will reciprocate our love. I write and I read and those who receive my thoughts, perhaps only in the form of words on a piece of paper, are more real than those who share my physical space. It is an unbroken string of beads, a rosary, that ties us together.
I have also put it down in a poem.
If tomorrow they should tell me that you have ceased to be
I would feel myself diminished, part of me would also cease to be.
As long as you (and I) exist,
the rosary that bears your name is incomplete,
and in its incompleteness
offers hopes of growth, of change, of being added on to.
I somehow fear the finality of the accomplished fact,
of when someone says
“the end”.
Erika Bizzarri 
This is incredibly beautiful, Erika. Thank you so much for sharing this.
With all my love,
Michelle
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Beautiful prose! Happy Birthday!
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Thank you so much for your beautiful words dear friend! I send fondest Birthday greetings and big gentle hugs. Much love on your special day! James II Varah
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Happy Birthday. Wow 97!!! You are amazing…(but then, you always were.) What a gift and inspiration you are to all your friends and family. You have inspired me to pursue a lifelong career in Art. I will always be grateful for that!!!
Baci.
Tom Tiberio
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Cent’anni! You’re almost there. 😁 Thanks for the beautiful rumination of love as a bridge. I find that image most memorable. I shall hold on to that! Buon Compleanno. Rendila una giornata meravigliosa!
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Erika, I messed up my original birthday wishes by making it from Anonymous. This is “Stefano” from Boston. Enjoy good health and celebrate your special day. Complimenti! Abbracci 🤗
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I am sending to you the kindest and warmest birthday wishes, Erika. You never cease to amaze me how many keepsakes you have and then you are able to put your hand upon them and wrap the keepsake with the most amazing prose. You are indeed a treasure to all that know you. Mike in San Francisco
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Absolutely beautiful, Erika. Each time I see that you have written something new, a smile comes upon my face because I know I will read, think and be moved and inspired. I have a circle of friends from my college days of almost 60 years ago who are also the beneficiaries of your beautiful words and quiet wisdom. They will also, from Newberg, Oregon and Frankfort, Kentucky be wishing you a happy birthday, as will I and Nancy from Santa Fe. My father died when I was 21, in 1971 and I listen to him often when I need advice and encouragement. Sounds silly, but he’s with me when I need him, which is often. A presto…..mid-March. David and Nancy in Santa Fe.
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Happy Birthday Erika!
I hope you receive my message through friends of your friends.
I am in your city and enjoying it very much.
97 years young!! Hurray
Jo Ellen
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Another gift you’ve given us! How much I enjoy reading your words. How they step over the ocean and reach through the years. It always seems that the smaller the detail, the harder they hit. Beads of love indeed. Thank you, Erica. Thank you so much. Happy birthday.
dc
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Cara Erika,
grazie!!! For such beautiful words & sentiment.
I love you dearly from here in Bisbee Arizona, so grateful for the time and friendship we shared there in Orvieto.
You are a treasured treasure.
Jhan Kold
PS: warmest regards to Claudio & Alba as well. Xo
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Dear Erika,
I enjoyed your birthday message very much and I hope you had a great day. I wanted to to ask if you have any news of friend Cynthia Selfridge ? Does she still visit ?
Abbracci,
Mark.
>
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Wishing you a very Happy Birthday. I particularly enjoyed this recent blog post. The photo of the younger you is really lovely. And your poem is touching and reflects my feelings about losing my friend Brad. It is a beautiful thing, and you are a very special person. Knowing you has been one of the greatest gifts moving to italy has brought me. With love (and admiration) James 3
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Hi Eika. Happy birthday, a little late. We are doing fine in the frozen landscape – so much snow this year. More troubling is our government which appears to unravel more and more each day.
Love to all, M
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