When I was asked to speak about the relationship between my sister Flaminia—Minni, as we call her—and my son Vittorio, I decided to ask him directly what Aunt Minni meant to him. His answer was simple: "She's a love, and I like when she eats because she tastes it." That's how I would describe their bond: a silent love told in glances.
Throughout my life, I've always feared that Minni—now a radiant woman in her forties, cerebral palsy, with enormous blue eyes—felt abandoned by me. So when Vittorio was born, I was terrified of her judgment. I was afraid she would think my love for her was fading, that this new life had taken its place.
The first time Flaminia saw Vittorio, she studied him, looked at him sideways. I was hurt, honestly. Unsatisfied, I pushed forward and took Vittorio to visit her at home. She was lying on her back on the bed, and without warning, I laid Vittorio on her chest. Something shifted in her. She began to smile and stroke him.
From the start, I tried to bring Minni and Vittorio together. The blessing was that Vittorio—six now—is a curious and affectionate child. When we visited my parents, he would throw himself at Minni, pestering her relentlessly. What amazed me was that she didn't push him away. She let him be. So I encouraged him even more, delighted by their play.
As my son grew, the questions started. "Why doesn't she talk?" "How does she make people understand her?" "How do I know if she likes something?" At first, I relied on my mother to help, because once Vittorio sets his mind to learning something, he peppers you with questions—some of them very complicated.
When he asked, "What does she like?" I told him that Minni's passion was food. He loved this answer so much that in Assisi in 2015—he was two then—he insisted on feeding her. I still remember the joy mixed with emotion I felt watching that moment.
Over these six years, he has found his own way of being with Minni. He greets her, scolds her if she won't take her medicine, holds her hand when we walk, rests beside her, watches television with her. "Mom, I like when Aunt Minni watches TV next to me," he told me once. It's a relationship told in glances.
It's beautiful to see how Vittorio now helps his younger brother connect with Flaminia without my help. I step back, at peace knowing I have passed on to my children the deep love I feel for this sister and special aunt.
