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A Letter to Pia

from Monica and Gabriele Gratton

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We cannot forget that morning. The call from Enrico. The cold, rainy, endless car trip to Urbana. The chill in our hearts. But, in the midst of it all, we could not, we will not forget your smile. We remember you. We remember the things, the events we shared. Do you remember?

Do you remember that day, in late August, so long ago? You telling us: "Why don't you come to America, when you graduate?" And then you smiled. We were very young, and we did not know what to do with our future. Do you remember? It was at Sergio's and Matteo's baptism -- and we were eating with you and Enrico. That day changed our lives, for ever.

Do you remember the day we arrived from Italy? It was mid-December in Urbana. That morning, in the kitchen of your home, we were planning about our future, talking about our hopes -- looking for an apartment, looking for a car, and deciding the household things we should get. It was very cold, and we were very far from our families, from the life we knew. And still, we were not alone -- we knew that you and Enrico would be there, with us, and would help us -- we were not alone.

Do you remember the first time we went together to Chicago? Oh, how cold it was that day! There were six of us in the car. You and Fabio were fighting and playing all the way. We'll always remember the times we went to your house. Sitting on the sofa, talking about our lives, about our friends. Watching a movie or a soccer game, or going out to dinner, or to dance class.

Do you remember when you, Enrico, Claudio, and Fabio, would come to our house for Thanksgiving? Relaxing while eating the turkey, and after dinner, chatting in front of the fireplace. You were always cold. You were born for the summer, for the sunshine. You were sunshine.

Do you remember the morning that Enrico called us to say that Valentina was born? In the hospital, you were joking about how you were suffering through labor, and everything moved so quickly, and Enrico was "saving himself for later," as he said. You were tired, so tired and so happy.

Do you remember when, six months later, you came to the hospital to see Caterina, who was born during the night? You said that she looked so much like Valentina, and that it would be great that the two girls would grow up together like sisters ("twin cousins," as they like to call themselves).

Do you remember the time we told you and Enrico that we were looking for jobs, that we would probably leave Urbana? You were sad, that day. But you were on our side, as always.

Do you remember you when you came to visit us in Padua, and then in New York? Do you remember when we talked on the phone about our projects of seeing each other again? Of perhaps going on vacation together. Or of finding jobs in the same city. Projects, hopes ...

Pia, we do remember. We remember your joy, and your smile. We remember your happiness and the happiness you gave us.

Pia, we'll always remember you. And your memory will be warm in our hearts.

Love,

Monica & Gabriele