It happened to me as well, in a way, at my mother-in-law’s funeral in Rimini this past May. She was a beautiful Romagnola woman, a lover of life, music, and dance, taken by cancer in just six months. My wife and her sister—who sings and runs a hotel, just like their mother once did—danced to Romagna Mia, her favorite song, right there in front of the casket, already set in the hearse that would take her to be cremated. It was their way of saying, “We love you; we’re always with you; we remember you through life, not through death.” A dizzying swirl of emotions: tears and joyful music. The power of life, the strength of love.
The scene stirred up conflicting emotions; how could one dance on such a sorrowful day? Across Italy, the story and video of Nonno Gino in Veneto, dancing to dance music at the funeral of his 15-year-old grandson who died in a Vespa crash, is going viral. These were their songs—the soundtrack to their relationship and their joy together. That ritual, that defiant joy, that paradoxical happiness isn’t a lack of decorum; rather, it’s the strength of love that binds those who remain to those who have gone.
Losing a loved one is a terrible trauma, a wound that heals slowly, if ever. Each of us preserves in our hearts what makes them truly immortal, like the brief, repeated moments in front of everyone, where we hold on to the earthly happiness of simply being together.
