Rome, January 30, 1978
On Sunday I wanted so badly to see you all again—and I did. It's rare for me to go out alone, but I had to. I knew that being with you would comfort me in the pain I was carrying.
These past days have been heavy, knowing about Gianluca's death. I wasn't there, but I knew that being together with all of you—who carried the same grief—would help. So I came. I was happy and sad at the same moment. When Louis said Mass, I reached my limit.
Mariangela was there holding Chicca, cradling her. I wanted to go to her, embrace her, feel her hold me, and finally let out all the tears I'd been pushing down. But I didn't. Shyness held me back.
Gianluca's death was the suffering of a thousand mothers. I looked at Mariangela and we barely spoke, but there was no need for words. I read it in her eyes, and I'm certain she read it in mine. And once more I understood how consoling it is to be understood without having to voice the same anguish, the same fears.
Pau, January 30, 1978
To all of you, friends of Faith and Light.
By the time you read this, you will have felt life and love again, after this dark time when Gianluca left us.
I hold you in my silent prayer.
How I wish you could feel me close by, especially Gianluca's family. But we had all become his "big" family.
May Gianluca be for us that small light that makes us believe in Light itself.
Michel
I Heard About You
Rome, May 22, 1978
Dear friends of Faith and Light,
A friend of mine who comes to your gatherings told me about you.
Yesterday I found myself among the people who came to your Spring party. I was deeply moved by the joy, generosity, and love that fills your community.
I wanted to help with the sale to contribute something, however small, to your work. But I'm ashamed to say I don't have your courage or your faith. Seeing so many children who are suffering—I couldn't bear it. I left with tears in my eyes.
Please accept this small amount as payment for items sold yesterday.
Thank you for the good you've done me, and I wish you ever greater success.
Forgive me for remaining anonymous. I hope to send you more contributions whenever I'm able.
- A friend
Thank you, friend. We hope to see you again at our simple, peaceful gatherings.
A Word of Self-Reflection, Friends
I decided to write this piece in the wake of Assisi—fresh from an experience so profound, so beautiful, one that surely left something deep inside each of us.
That's why I'm writing now. I believe we cannot live out our commitments only in the big moments, where it's easier anyway. We must do it day after day, moment after moment, constantly wrestling with reality as friends. Because the grand gesture by itself means nothing. Often it becomes an excuse to quiet our conscience, a way to tell ourselves, "I'm a committed person."
Assisi gave me the desire to give everything of myself. Not once a month or every two weeks. All the time. All I can.
- a friend