This past Monday, late in the evening, we returned home from what was a fabulous family trip to Italy.
Tuesday morning, as I unpacked and placed all our souvenirs
on the dining room table, my mother called with the news that on Sunday a dear
and life-long family friend, Nicoletta, had passed away. I listened to my
mother say the words, and my mind could not wrap around what I was hearing.
The suddenness of Nicoletta’s passing was shocking.
She was only four years older than me, the “big sister” to all
of us at every Italian gathering.
And just like that, I went from profound joy to profound sadness.
I closed the suitcases, ignored the souvenirs still wrapped in their pretty
papers, and thought about our dear friend. My emotions were all over the place.
Sad, but then a funny memory popped up and I was smiling. There were tears, but
then laughter when my sister called to hear about our trip.
All day long, I waffled between emotions, which confused me.
How could this be? How can a heart hold all these conflicting, diametrically
opposed emotions? Happiness. Grief. Hope. Despair.
But then I was scrolling through the photos of our trip and
came across one I took of Cimabue’s crucifix hanging in the Basilica of Santa
Croce in Florence. In 1966, this crucifix (painted in 1275) was salvaged from
the flood waters when the Arno River overflowed and flooded the city of
Florence. The next morning a priest, entering the church in a rowboat, noticed
flecks of paint floating on the water and realized they were from Cimabue’s crucifix.
He gathered the floating specks, which were later used during the 10-year restoration
process of the cross.
Today, the damage is still visible. There are watermarks and
paint is missing. It is not perfect. And yet, despite the watermarks and missing
paint, the cross is magnificent.
So, back at home, re-living our travels and mourning the
loss of a dear friend, I looked at this photo I took of Cimabue’s crucifix and
was reminded that, yes, the heart can take it all. Christ’s outstretched arms, opened
to sacrifice and love, remind us of this. It is not easy. It is not meant to
be.
But life is like Cimabue’s cross in which all the broken, imperfect pieces make up a truly magnificent whole.
Rest in peace,
dear Nicoletta.
