Andrea has been blind since birth. At twenty-two, he joined a Fede e Luce community, where he met Maria Caterina, a student of physical therapy. They married and had four children: Samuele (15), Davide (13), Stefano (10), and Rachele (7). Maria Caterina tells us what it's like to raise a family with a blind father.
Davide puts it this way: "If we're in a good mood, it's paradise. Otherwise it's hell!" But that's true of every family. Our life has its joys, its tensions, its easy days and hard ones — like everyone's. So is there really no difference? To say that would be to ignore a reality that, for each of us, can sometimes be very difficult. With the kids, we've drawn up a list of rules so that everyone feels at home.
Don't leave toys in the hallways or dining room — they could break! Samuele got tired of rebuilding his Lego airport after Andrea kept bumping into the control tower.
Don't leave doors half-open; they could hit Andrea's face. Clear obstacles from his path so he can move freely. The ironing board, for instance — we've thrown away so many irons! Andrea has taken several tumbles over the dishwasher door; we forgot to tell him it was open. And when loading the dishwasher, knives must always go point-down, so there's no risk when Andrea empties it.
Keep every object in the same place so Andrea can be independent — make his own coffee when he wants. That matters too, for feeling at home.
Tell him about every small change: a drawing on the wall, a new picture, a new plant. He needs to know his space and master it.
Leave plenty of room for Braille books. One regular book becomes thirty Braille volumes — a full meter of shelf space!
These are some of the constraints we've had to work into how we organize the house. But there are bigger difficulties.
Walking through the city, with all its unpredictable hazards, exhausts Andrea. He can't navigate any route on autopilot. Helping him through that struggle is hard on all of us. We live with constant worry. Last winter, Stefano came home to salt a patch of icy sidewalk "so Dad won't slip." Another day he warned us: "Someone should call Dad about the hole in the pavement." And so on.
Andrea does a lot of things. Some are impossible for him. Sometimes we struggle to accept that. Moving, and especially settling into a new place, is a trial for him and for us. Vacation prep often becomes a source of conflict, because Andrea can't help with packing, loading the car, a final cleanup, or planning the route. Not knowing what to do, he listens to the radio, and that can raise the tension for everyone. But I think vacation packing causes conflict in plenty of families, with or without disability.
I've mentioned some difficulties that come from Andrea's blindness, but in many ways our family life doesn't differ from any other. We can laugh. We can play! We've adapted some board games. On vacation the kids tried a card game called briscola. Stefano said: "It's impossible to play hide-and-seek with Dad — his hearing is too sharp!" Or: "Our soccer games are really one of a kind!" And: "We're often goofing around with Dad, but quietly, so we don't get Mom upset!" Rachele, thoughtful: "Maybe if I didn't have a blind father, I wouldn't be okay."
Andrea sums it up: "Yes, living in a family when you're blind is possible. It takes a lot of organization and care so everyone feels at home. But I feel very good at home. I'm happy. I'm fortunate."
(O. et L. 123)