Dear mothers of Ombre e Luci,
as you'll see in the center of this issue, we've included two pages of questions for you. To continue our work, we need to hear from you—to understand where you stand in your long and difficult journey alongside a disabled child. Or, for those of you who are younger, to learn what you hope for, what you desire.
We would love to receive those pages filled with your answers, your participation in what we do. When we began publishing Ombre e Luci thirty years ago, in 1983, we did it above all so that parents—who had far fewer resources then than they do now—would not feel abandoned.
I who write to you will soon have to step back from this work. I'm no longer young enough to be at your side the way I wish I could be. Before I retire, I need to talk with you, each one of you. Even if we cannot meet in person—as I would love to—I want to hear your voices; to know how best to serve you with articles that help, with words that bring you courage, hope, the certainty that you are not alone; that together we will keep believing that our children are not simply a "burden," a "hardship." Rather, after all these years, we have learned together to see them as an opening of the heart toward others.
"Only those who walk this road," one of you said, "can understand the suffering of others."
So we ask you to respond—not out of curiosity, but out of solidarity. We need to understand better who reads this small magazine; it was created for you, so that "others"—everyone else—might learn to "know" the family with a disabled child.
What we have done in these thirty years is not much; we certainly could have done more and better. What we hope to do in the future depends on your help—if you will all be so kind, so thoughtful, so creative in sending us your answers.
Thank you with all our hearts.
Mariangela Bertolini, 2012