August had finally arrived. In Calabria, the heat was stifling, and Silvia's family—now on vacation—savored time together: mother, father, and three children. They had lived in Rome for several years, but Calabria is where their closest relatives and dearest friends live. A few minutes. That's all it took. One night Silvia's father fell ill; the ambulance came, but he died before reaching the hospital. Everyone was in shock. Silvia had watched her father leave in that ambulance, the siren's wail still echoing in her ears.
Silvia returned to Rome. Toward the end of September—after this traumatic experience—she came back to Guscio di Noce. She had started visiting our day center a few months earlier, amazing us with her gift for drawing and styling her hair. Silvia is an autistic girl.
Days pass. Her mother and brothers must manage not only their grief but also practical matters. And Silvia? Silvia waits. Every day she waits to understand where her father has gone, why he doesn't wake her in the morning, why he doesn't drive her to Guscio anymore. She has stopped fixing her hair. She is distracted, aggressive. Her drawings have become fewer. We are all worried and deeply sad for her.
A need has emerged—a void that is hard to fill. The question remains open, but it demands an answer.
A need has emerged—a void that is hard to fill.The question remains open, but it demands an answer.
Another young person at our center has also lost his father. Nearly five years have passed, and still he cannot sleep in his own room. He sleeps in his father's bed while his mother rests in the living room. Such profound grief. The struggle to understand. The difficulty of explaining a mystery—death itself—to young people whose minds connect with the world in a fundamentally different way. Young people who experience relationships and affection in utterly unique and original ways.
Our experience has revealed a need—an educational void that is hard to fill—because the competencies required span many domains. Certainly, we need deep knowledge of each young person's specific disability. But beyond that, we need the capacity to communicate God's love and His presence in suffering; to honor the presence of someone who is no longer there, for instance by remembering them in a way that creates new meaning. Educators of rare and precious gifts—figures with a mission at the heart of their calling—could serve not only the young people but also families overwhelmed and suffocated by grief. Educators capable of designing a bespoke educational plan for the young person and their family: a true life project. One that begins in the present and reaches toward the life beyond, that dimension where every limit will be overcome and the joy of loving encounter is assured. Is it possible to answer this need? At Guscio, we have not yet found a way. The question remains, sadly, open.
Anna Maria Canonico is president of the association Guscio di Noce (Rome)
