Did you know right away about Domenico's disability?
When I was carrying Domenico, in my eighth month, I felt uneasy. The baby was moving only on one side. We later learned he had the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck and one foot stuck in an awkward position.
I saw immediately at his birth that something was wrong, and my husband and I chose to learn about all the challenges that lay ahead. I owe much to our old family doctor, who told us: "Medicine will do all it can, but nothing will replace a parent's arms."
What support did you have?
Over all these years, what helped me most was the solid upbringing I received from my own parents. My family came from farming stock. Children obeyed and did what was expected. That discipline served me well later.
We didn't despair over small setbacks. We learned to hold firm.
Domenico learned to read and do arithmetic at home. My husband carved him a wooden alphabet. At six, he went to a special school. By fifth grade, he entered a regular school with other children, thanks to a director from the Oratory who convinced the teachers to try the experiment. I was with him throughout his schooling, sitting in class as his "secretary." At first, my presence made the teachers uncomfortable. I tried to be very discreet, and eventually I became a support for them too.
Domenico, what were the biggest difficulties you faced?
Special school went well. I didn't feel out of place because of my handicap. The real difficulties started in secondary school: the lack of independence and freedom of movement; watching the others play and run was very hard for me. I couldn't feed myself. Until I was ten, my diet was semi-liquid. Even studying caused me great strain. I worked hour after hour, from morning until seven at night. And then there were rehabilitation sessions on top of that. I typed then; now I write by hand.
I got my diploma with help from a secretary. Then I started higher studies, working toward a German diploma, but I fell in love with a friend who immediately pulled away. That hurt terribly. After two months, I gave up my studies.
Since then, I've been at home. Three years ago, I had a severe depression. It's so hard to accept living in a wheelchair, depending on others for every movement...
But now I can feed myself, and I manage my own money. I handle my own affairs. My friends have all left, gotten married.
Sometimes I get bored. I'm in a bad mood. My brother got married ten years ago. I hardly see him now. When he was little, he played with me and pushed my wheelchair.
What has sustained you? What sustains you now?
My parents, who truly carried me through, my brother, my friends, and my faith. I go on pilgrimage with the diocese to Lourdes. I attend retreats for young people. I visit a monastery near home where I find the strength to keep going.
The village where I live has 450 people; there's no grocery store, not even a bakery. I go to Mass three kilometers from here. But I don't know the parishioners well.
What has sustained me? My parents, my brother, my friends, and my faith
People don't always understand me well, but they shouldn't be afraid to ask me to repeat myself when they don't catch what I say. What has sustained me? My parents, my brother, my friends, and my faithYou have to take the time it takes. I count myself fortunate because I'm surrounded by people intelligent enough to understand my handicap in a way that lets them treat me normally. In general, people are kind to me. They say: don't worry about it, just say it again. I accept that. It doesn't bother me.
It helps that now I have fewer difficulties with people I meet. Maybe because I sense that they too feel less uncomfortable and know more about disability. When I was younger, I drooled and had to wear a napkin around my neck. My head hung down to my knees. Now I can sit up straight, thanks to all the rehabilitation work, and that makes it easier to connect with people.
How do you spend your days?
I read a great deal—everything interests me. I subscribe to the UNESCO Courier and Pax Christi. I take walks. I go to Paris to visit museums (I'm compiling a list of museums accessible to disabled people). I love to travel, and through the disabled persons' association, I can visit many countries.
I fly! On trains, my companion gets a free ticket. On planes, I get substantial discounts. I can even travel alone (for short trips, because of natural needs!). I love to telephone. It's strange—people understand me better on the phone. For example, the other day our kitten had a problem: I was able to call the vet.
You mentioned your faith earlier...
I pray. I try to put myself in spiritual communion with God. I confess I do this rarely these days. It's a kind of lack of trust in Him. I know that confessing regularly would help me reconnect with God. Every time I attend a spiritual gathering, I find a peace that frees my heart.
Reading magazines and newspapers, you find articles about all the world's problems—countries and peoples in grave distress and suffering, wanting to escape it. What does that have to do with faith? you might ask. It's the commitment I can make toward them because I believe that through prayer, there can be an alliance among people, and that way I can help them in their struggle.
How do you live as a celibate man?
I have no wish to marry. I'm afraid love wouldn't last long. But it's also a suffering. My doctor told me I'm not incapable of having children. I love children so much!
We leave Domenico struck by his serenity—something won day by day, we sense. We felt the longing to find him work that would let him use his abilities. We wish that all the Domenicos in the world could find a welcoming community—with young people like him and with people called "normal," to whom we believe they have much to offer: a powerful way of living and bearing witness.
- Interview with Domenico R., 1990 (from Ombres et Lumière no. 88)