Finding Life in the Midst of Hell
Eliana De Martis - There are many noble ways to defend life. One of them is just being there for each other and giving hope to a Christian life that already gives much, even when everything seems lost. These are the squares.
“Since there are so many of us, is it okay if you sleep in the kitchen? You are deaf, and the terrible noise from the refrigerator doesn’t bother you.” With these words, Rosa invited me to her house for the end of the year evening. I stopped wondering what to do with the squares and learned to enjoy them.
For the trip out, I had planned with Riccardo that he would drive from Verona to Brianza to pick up Nicoletta and then go to Pozzuoli by car. For the trip back, I would rather buy a Flex train ticket because you never know what will happen.
The night before departure, they hospitalized Nicoletta's father: will we be able to leave? When? We found out late at night; we decided to meet the next morning at the train station in Sesto.
The car is full: suitcases, pillows, mattresses, towels, wine bottles. We squeeze in, it will only take nine hours anyway! By the time we arrive it is already sunset, the Napoli game is over. Ale, Stefano, Maria Silvia, and Cesare have already arrived (they come from closer places, Cesena and Pesaro). Don Eugenio and Rosa are welcoming us in a garden full of lemons, oranges, and grapefruits. In the house, the air mattresses are already placed. Mass is for Rosa's mom, who is the squares' mom because it all started with her.
The house is full of friends, many I see for the first time. Even the lady who has been helping Mama Rosaria for the last few years comes and is moved when she sees us and then sings a great Neapolitan song. After dinner, Stefano teaches us Pino and Don Eugenio's little song, “quanto più saprai giocar,” which we will often reprise in these days.
Not all of us know each other. Each brings a different story, his hell, that he simply shares with others. Like Marina and Camillo. Why are we here? For an experience of freedom -- but what does that mean? The question remains open; it is to be experienced, not explained. We play table soccer, clean the kitchen, and I finally go to sleep with the sound of the fridge and new dishwasher.
December 30 is my birthday, after breakfast we say the Angelus together. We were going to go to the spa, but instead, we took a ride on Lake Averno among geese and turtles (we are all “skittish”), video call with Raffa and Renato, some bruschetta and then rushed to see the sunset over the sea. A breathtaking sight, in silence we sing along.
For dinner, we have bruschetta with garlic (a lot of it), then a game of cards, someone goes to bed, and we get ready for the night tour of the fish market: oysters, prawns, clams, and then breakfast at the Pozzuoli seaside bar with hot graffa (typical Neapolitan brioche) and coffee. It’s already the 31st.
I just went to sleep (always with the fridge and dishwasher) and at 7:40 I wake up by the message from Anna. She has just left Milan with Fabrizio and Elisa with a baby carriage, toilet, and tools.
Around 9 o'clock in “my” kitchen, everyone arrives. The Friar makes orange and grapefruit juice (picked from the garden) for everyone, Don Eugenio makes coffee, one long, one short, one cappuccino.
We say the Angelus together and then gradually the new arrivals. We went to the grocery store and the bakery. Then, we went back to watch the sunset. Today, the sky is cloudier and the sun seems to come down from the clouds to the sea. We carry Elisa in a baby carriage across the sand to the seashore, she wiggles happily and maybe even a little worried.
We video a friend to show her such beauty, she is amazed: something about you comes out that I didn't know … yeah, me neither.
At 6:30 p.m. Mass connected with Te Deum: giving thanks for what? Of the hell that is still here? Tough disease is hell, the death of your child, your husband, your wife is hell, seeing your wife imprisoned by ALS is hell. Chiara says it well via zoom, her husband Marco died last year of cancer just before their daughter Teresa was born: “I am the pissed off wife of a happy square and I have a cry inside, it's not fair! Yet, it's not enough for me!”
Don Eugenio hugged her and resumed the song she wrote, “And I gave you a kiss. And I told you to go. You are here again. Because you are with Him.” Gianpaolo restarts from here, a short time ago his son Alexander went to heaven: “I have a crazy anger inside, but if I went back I would not want anything different, to say there is contradiction is moralistic and in fact I am here.”
Who and what in hell is not hell: like a sudden companion on the way, and you find yourself in silence. The dinner is regal, and there are about 24 of us, appetizers, baked pasta, grilled fish, the panettone, the sparkling wine, and between a round of “how much more will you know how to play” and a song the tale of who and what amid hell isn’t hell continues.
The little children of Jessica, beautiful, as she tells her dramatic story play quietly thirsty for tenderness between the Don and Friar's beards and on Francis' unsteady knees. In Hell, the speeches are unbearable; we soon get fed up with them.
A message on the fly to a friend: it's a fever of life here! He says: how is that possible, since you are all dying? Yeah, as Don Eugenio says, we are not together to help each other die. But to discover and leave space for what makes us live in hell, whereas what hell is not.
At 11:30 p.m. we go up to the terrace (bringing Elisa with the wheelchair is an arduous and stupendous feat), Zoom connection with all the quadrats and off to the fires, incredible that with the iPad from hand to hand they enter the hells of the connected quadrats: from Baffetto in the hospital to Lucia and Giovanni (who they also found leukemia), to Isa who had stopped celebrating for a while.
As Maria Silvia (late-stage brain tumor) said: what does it mean to wish each other a Happy New Year when we know we probably won't make it to the next one?
We can wish ourselves -- all of us -- to recognize every moment who and what in the midst of hell is not hell, and give them space. The first of the year starts quietly, someone’s already getting ready to leave. Friar and Don Eugenio, who are always careful and secret, are still making breakfast. It is sunny and Mass can be done in the garden, and the time for farewells comes, and you find yourself in silence. A sudden companion on the road who never leaves you again: that's what happened!
The author has not reviewed notes and translations.
