He really did live a double life; all his friends knew Angelina. I wonder did they socialize as a couple with people that my mother knew.
Lorenzo walks up the aisle and sits in the second row, he’s visibly upset and I watch him as he stares at Angelina’s photo. There are a lot of men in that row and I’m assuming they are Giuliano’s closest friends.
What must Lorenzo have seen in his lifetime? As my father’s best friend, work colleague and confidant, he adored Angelina. He and she were strong friends until the very end. He has been there for her and Giuliano all along.
He is also now dating my mother, talk about a confusing conflict of interests. One thing I do know for sure is that my mother would never have been able to stop him from supporting Angelina, even if she had wanted to. His loyalty to her has never been questioned. I guess Lorenzo was strong friends with her long before he and my mother became a thing.
Another group of people walk up the aisle, they are crying and look very different to the rest of the church. Blond.
English.
They must be her family.
Trailing behind them is a lone figure in a black suit.
Giuliano.
My eyes instantly well with tears as I see him.
He’s broken, I can feel it.
They all take their seats, he sits down at the end, there is a spare seat next on the left of him.
A seat for my father.
His eyes rise to the coffin and he stares at it blankly.
I get a lump in my throat as I watch him, he looks so sad and forlorn.
Utterly broken.
The minister takes his place at the podium. “Thank you all for coming. Today we are here to celebrate the life of Angelina Linden. Beloved partner of Giuliano and adored mother to Giuliano.”
My heart drops.
The service begins and the English relatives all hug and console each other.
Giuliano sits alone, staring at the coffin.
Why is he alone?
People are crying all around me, the sad sobs are deafening.
Giuliano sits alone, completely composed and straight faced.
Why isn’t anyone comforting him?
I begin to look around, what the hell is going on here? Where are all his support people?
Then it dawns on me, he doesn’t know the English relatives.
He really is all alone.
He doesn’t have any family left.
My heart breaks as I watch him, a lone tear rolls down my face and I look at my father’s empty chair beside him.
I can’t stand it.
I know that I’m not my father, but at this moment I’m the closest thing to it.
I stand and walk up the aisle to the sound of gasps behind me and I sit beside Giuliano.
He looks over at me and a frown crosses his brow.
“Hi.” I smile softly and take his hand in mine and hold it on my lap.
He squeezes my hand in a silent thank-you and I squeeze it back.
With his eyes fixed on the coffin, he swallows the lump in his throat as his jaw clenches and I know that my act of kindness has perhaps weakened his defenses.
As the service goes on, I lean my head on Giuliano’s shoulder and after a while, he puts his arm around me.
Leaning against each other, we watch the service in silence and it may as well be just me and him in the room. I don’t care what anyone else thinks, I’m here to support my brother in his time of need.
And he needs me, I can feel it in my bones. The sadness seeping out of him is overwhelming.
The service comes to an end and Giuliano stands and puts a pink rose on her coffin and then Lorenzo and a group of young men, I’m guessing Giuliano’s friends, take their place at the side of the coffin.
Giuliano’s eyes well with tears as he drops his head.
Oh no.
I just want to comfort him.
“One, two, three,” they whisper.
The men all lift together and carry Angelina’s coffin to the hearse waiting outside.
Everyone gets up and slowly leaves but I stay seated in the church and stare into space. A little shell shocked and a whole lot of devastated.
I haven’t been to a funeral since Enrico’s and Olivia’s. Only two years before that I went to my grandfather’s and father’s. And now, this.
There have been too many deaths in my family, too much heartbreak.
I hear the cries as the funeral car pulls away outside and I close my eyes to try to block out the sobs.
I stay seated for a long time, I’ll wait until everyone leaves before I go out there. I don’t want to see or talk to anyone.
“Thank you,” a deep voice says softly from behind me.
I turn to see Giuliano standing in the aisle.
“It means a lot that you came.” His voice is deep and raspy.
“That’s okay.” I stand. “I hope I didn’t intrude.”