A Letter to the Befana
Last January 6th, I visited my friends in the S. Anna group. They gather every year to celebrate the arrival of the Befana together.
I treasure a beautiful and vivid memory of that gathering. For the occasion, Annarosa had transformed herself into a cheerful and unusual old woman—a guest playing the Befana—and handed each person present a personal gift. Then a disabled girl from the group came up to me and said she wanted to write a letter. I encouraged her, and she asked me to deliver it to the Befana. She wrote slowly, and I could see her eyes shine. When I took the page and read it, my heart stopped. I realized the letter left so many questions open—questions that no one could ever answer, or even hope to answer.
"Dear Befana, next year I would like a long wedding dress and a crown on my head like a queen still very beautiful I like it so much.
When I learn to do laundry and wash I will put it on the clothesline 1) iron it 2) Go shopping with Lady Concetta and learn about money 3) Cook and I want to be a housewife like mom and then I will find a man even more handsome.
Alba Colamarino
A little background on Alba might help those who don't know her understand this letter better. She is 46 years old and lives with her elderly father. Her mother died more than two years ago, but Alba doesn't know that.
I'm not asking for answers myself, nor do I believe we must have them. I simply want to pose the same questions and doubts that have haunted me.
Why can't a person with a mental disability—who is a woman like any other, who dreams of marriage and a husband and a family—be told "yes, you too will soon make your dream come true"? Why couldn't I tell her that, even though her desire is purer and more sincere than that of so many other girls who often don't know what they want from life and are ready to say they don't even believe in marriage—why couldn't I promise her that she too would soon find a husband and have a home of her own?
For the first time, I felt completely helpless. And I, who am married and have a family, found myself wishing she were in my place, because maybe she has more right to it than I do.
Chiara (S. Gregorio)
Everyone feels helpless in the face of this question. Ombre e Luci tried to address it in issue 49 of 1995. We remain ready to welcome testimonies and articles that help us continue thinking deeply about a subject that calls to us profoundly.
Send us photographs rich with meaning. You will help us improve Ombre e Luci
An Example to Follow
Pierluigi Del Bono retired this past July.
Taking my advice to heart, he donated to Ombre e Luci the farewell gift his colleagues at the Viareggio Post Office had collected for him. He too has a son with Down syndrome.
I read every page of the magazine with immense joy and hope to remain with you as a source of GOSPEL witness.
Anna Maria Fassaro
What a Friend We Need
"If only we had a friend like that!" some people will say. They think he's healthy, but he isn't. I understand it isn't easy to accept a disabled person in your home—especially in our society. We all have our problems, but for those who think themselves "normal," this problem doesn't exist! If you're good volunteers: why not welcome a young person who is different?
Friends are so few now. They're afraid of him. But why?
He's a different person, but he's also like all of you, even with his difficulties. Let these children live in peace. And you—volunteers and non-volunteers alike—try to spend time with them, because this happens so often and they suffer and are left alone!
A Reader