The Question
I recorded this letter as an audio before my mom came home because I don't want her to hear these worries of mine...
When you're 28 like me, you ask yourself: every time my mom isn't well, I think about what will happen to me. Now I'm with her, but tomorrow—who will I be with? What will I do?
Because even though I try to go out and make friends, at first everything goes great, everyone is so kind, but then when I really need them and I reach out, I get vague answers.
These social media platforms, in my opinion, have sort of ruined all of us. There's no physical contact anymore, and it's us kids with disabilities who pay the price.
But that's not even the real problem. When I finished school, I realized something. As a child I just couldn't wait to be done, thinking there would be something for me out there. But over the years I understood: after school ended, I had nothing. I used to take everything for granted. Now I take less for granted. Growing up, I feel the need to go out on my own. When my mom needs to be alone and rest, I ask myself what I can do. Then come the doubts, the anxiety, because I don't know where to start.
My day starts early. I take the dog out and come back in, eat, wash, get dressed. At home I help with everything. But to go out, I need help. I live in an isolated area with poor public transportation. I can't run errands by myself. The street is dangerous to cross, the sidewalks are broken, there are no ramps. So I'm always dependent on others. At 28, this weighs on me. A lot. Not because I don't want to go out with my mom—sometimes she's not well anyway—but because I think about the future. So when I'm praying, like I did recently in my community, I think about it all. On normal days at home, I try to do everything I can not to think about these problems. I keep myself busy. I can't pray in my everyday life—it doesn't come easily to me—so I wait for Sunday or when I see Faith and Light friends, just to be around people.
My mom often thinks about my future (and my twin sister's, who is blind). But when she's alone with me, I try to change the subject. But reality is something else. The question isn't just what we'll do when our parents and the people near us are gone. It's also what we can do for them.
To the young people my age who, like me, use a wheelchair: I say don't give up. Don't give up because we are our parents' strength.
And to the people around us: always tell them thank you. A huge thank you. Maybe they understand better than we do what it means to be there for us, even when we're angry or nervous and don't realize it.
Antonietta Pantone
"My Life in a Wheelchair" is her Facebook page
A Happy Thought
It's been a while since I've been away, yet I feel you present, because I've learned that beautiful souls and true emotions never leave us. It was a painful separation, at times necessary, selfish, difficult, freeing.
But I don't want to talk about myself. Instead, I want to talk about the power of special friends like those I've met at Faith and Light—a power that reaches beyond imagination.
Distance usually fades memories. Emotions give way to reason. Lived experiences become distant echoes.
Not with them. The farther away I go, the more they knock at my heart and are unexpectedly, gently there. Yes, there. You can do anything: leave, come back, build other relationships, have a life more or less fulfilling. But they are there. Always. Silently. Without noise. They are there. In your thoughts. In your heart. In your eyes. In your ears.
They are part of you, they accompany you. It's an emotion that stays alive, fed by beauty, by a nostalgia that embraces you and never lets you feel alone.
On the darkest days, when you want to lock yourself in a glass bubble, your mind tormenting you, your phone—on silent—vibrates, vibrates, vibrates and won't give up. So you answer. You hear that pure, kind voice that wants nothing but to give you love. And suddenly your furrowed brow softens and you can't help but wink at life. These kids, real and unique friends in such a crowded world. With them, everything is possible, everything is allowed, everything gets color, everything transforms.
To be present, constantly, in someone's life is hard. It takes consistency, commitment, attention, will. With people like Marina, I learned that all of this is possible and, above all, surprisingly simple. The ingredients are love that doesn't turn to bitterness when you're away for a while, the immortality of a deep, real, concrete experience, and the joy of seeing each other even over a quick dinner, knowing that time is a tyrant and who knows when we'll embrace again. But it doesn't matter, because as Marina says: "The important thing is that tomorrow you have a happy thought for me."
That's enough for us. It's enough for me to have people like this in my life. In different ways and forms, but one thing is certain: without them, I wouldn't be who I am.
Not long ago, a young woman discovered her daughter will be born with Down syndrome. Her eyes were lost and her heart was desperate. I held her and whispered: "You might think I'm crazy, but believe me—it will be a magical experience, yes, demanding in human terms, but incredible."
To the kids in my heart, I dedicate these lines and send you a happy thought every morning, thanking heaven for this gift I've been given.
Maria Sole
New Community Leaders
Looking back at the years I spent with Faith and Light, I've come to understand so much. I joined this wonderful group in February 1988. Back then, I was still closed off in my own world.
Because of this group, something inside me began to change. I grew. I connected with so many people. I made real friendships.
Every month brought a celebration and so much joy—birthdays, parties, and planning meetings at our parish center. Meanwhile, I was growing, blooming. The Gratosoglio community was growing too, and being part of it made me feel fulfilled. I was happy. I am happy, satisfied with myself.
Soon I was fully part of this wonderful group. Then came the trip to Venegono, where we all go in June for the end-of-year celebration. I met more people, until I encountered Ombretta and Claudio, and then Teresa—our three outgoing leaders. We owe them so much. Ombretta and Claudio gave life to our group and changed the course of my own life. They were wonderful at including everyone—parents, young people, friends—and I couldn't stand apart. I wanted to step forward too, to help them, to let them know I was there.
Now the Spinelli family is complete with two daughters, Dalila and Maia. They were serving their second term and passed the responsibility to others. Teresa and Alfonso will soon celebrate that their baby girl arrives in August.
On Sunday, May 6th, we discerned among four candidates: Elvira, Teresa, Cristina, and Nora. Last month we planted seeds in a plant that Teresa and Alfonso tended until that Sunday when we saw it had grown and borne fruit.
I see myself in that plant, growing bit by bit. I feel like a seed that became fruit and then a leader. That's right—Cristina Viganò and I are the new leaders of the Santa Maria Madre della Chiesa community in Gratosoglio. I owe so much to my community because I discovered I have a treasure on earth. My richness is you, my friends. I will do everything to deserve the trust you've placed in me. It's a wonderful experience that lets me learn so many things and meet so many friends. My dream has come true. I'm ready. I'm energized.
Thank you to all the friends who supported us and walked with us in preparing for this election.
For these three years of experience and responsibility, thank you with all my heart, my friends. I wish you all the best. Your friend Nora, always and at your service.
Nora Bucchieri