VENICE, ITALY 1964

Written April 12, 2011
Sorrow and Grieving is like a trip to Venice



It had been decided months before graduation that my high school graduation gift would be a trip to Europe. The year was 1964 and my life was as perfect as any eighteen year old's life could be.

I had a wonderful, loving, deeply spiritual family. My father's prestigious position with the Federal Government ensured that we were financially secure and afforded us many opportunities that most of America didn't have. Both of my parents were very intelligent and felt education was of the utmost importance. They also felt that travel was a very important part of our education. So when my high school made available a chaperoned trip to Europe in the summer of 1964, to my very great surprise and delight, my parents quickly agreed and encouraged me to go. I was so excited that I literally could not sit still.

The trip was as magical as I had envisioned. I made new enduring friendships. I saw and learned about things and places I had only read about. In the eight countries visited there were tours of palaces and cathedrals, art galleries, historic sites, fabulous fountains; and we visited many famous cities. And in those cities we saw among other things a bull fight in Spain, went to an opera in Italy, and a Shakespearean play in England. In Rome we went to the Vatican, the Coliseum, and the catacombs. Each country offered a variety of things and places that were particular to that region and for me it was all new, exciting, and wonderful. We experienced new foods - wonderful, exotic food. There were adventures and misadventures - like sneaking out after curfew to explore the city or go on a date with someone we had just met. It was indeed a life changing time in my life and a stepping stone into my life an "an adult".

I am so thankful that I kept a journal of each day of my trip. How I enjoy rereading it and reliving my experiences.

My memories of that trip are still vivid in my memory. So this past week when I saw a painting of Venice by Stephen Scott Young, warm memories came flooding in on a rolling tide. The receding tide pulled me back to a time and place that holds a special place in my heart and whose images are forever imprinted there.

The painting brought back one specific memory. Every night at forty minute intervals a gondolier pushed his gondola below our hotel window singing Santa Lucia. His operatic voice was amazing. It carried far in the quiet of the night and drifted in and around the buildings, down the canals, and under the bridges. And as amazing as it was, it was much too loud for sleeping patrons. So we were awaken repeatedly throughout the night. A pleasant and not so pleasant memory. The first time, and perhaps the second and third, I hung out the window totally mesmerized. The sixth time I was pulling the pillow over my head and mentally begging him to stop or at the very least sing a different song.

The painting is very, very faint and I struggled to make out the details. Because of this, I decided to try and replicate it for this journal entry. Not a great duplication - not even good really - but fine for this purpose.

One of the things I remember most about Venice is that we could smell it long before we got there; and by the time we arrived our noses had adapted and we could no longer smell the strong scent of raw sewage. Without the smell, the city of water with its small walking bridges (and no automobiles) was beautiful, unusual, and captivating.

I think sorrow and grieving is, in a lot of ways, like a trip to Venice. In the first year everything is like the very, very unpleasant approach to the city. We are acutely aware of the deep agonizing pain that fills our every moment and we think that we won't survive. But as time passes we realize that we will survive and we begin to adapt - much like we did when we arrived at the canals of the city. Sorrow becomes such a part of us that living without it no longer seems a possibility.

Sorrow also brings with it great difficulties - like searching out the correct walking bridge among the maze of bridges that will allow us passage from one place to another. Sorrow also prevents easy passage from one stage of life to another. We get stuck. Our grief allows us to see the beauty and excitement around us but stops us from being full participants in living and enjoying those things. As much as we long for it, grief holds us in its stony grasp and never lets us fully engage in life as we use to know it. I wish that I had answers on how to overcome sorrow and grief but I don't.

On occasion there are truly joyful moments in my life. I am so grateful when the veil of sadness parts and I am able to see the beauty of the people around me and the beauty of nature that surrounds all of us. So I will do my best to adapt to this new life and live it the best I can with as much joy as I can; and be thankful that each morning brings with it a new beginning.

St. John 16:22 "So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy." (NIV)