Well, today was the day, Wednesday 21st March 2012…. Sadly, Alison’s cross to bear was another disturbed night thanks to my snoring and as much as I tried to do her a favour by staying awake after she’d dozed off, I dont think she was a deep enough sleeper to be able to get away with it. Oh well. There was only so much that I could do at the time.
We all awoke and reconvened over an early simple continental breakfast and were due to meet a representative of the council at the Chiesa at 9AM. Once we had completed Breakfast at about 8.15AM, Alison and I walked up to the florist next to the council offices and collected the five white roses, one from each of us and the lemon pot plant. We walked back to the Casa, collected BF and the God-children and the Late Mrs F’s ashes and we all walked down to the Chiesa to meet the man from the council.
At 9AM, he arrived and he opened the Chiesa and had brought a vase with him and a bottle of water. He motioned for us to climb the few short steps up to the walled garden above the piazza.
We put the small wooden container which held the ashes next to the juvenile potted Lemon plant and he stayed with us while we had a brief moment of saying our goodbyes and scattering the ashes in and around the potted lemon plant. We had brought a iPod with us and a couple of miniature speakers. We asked if we could play some music and this was refused by the man from the council, given that it was still early. I didn’t make a fuss about it.
BF made her own personal dedication to Late Mrs F… no one can make a connection with the dead like a childhood friend… and she then asked me if I wanted to say a few words.
And to my eternal shame, my words failed me and I dried up…. I couldn’t think of anything meaningful to say beyond what the spirit of my late wife already knew; that I loved her and missed her and hoped that we had done her proud. But I couldn’t get those words out. Not right then.
We walked down the steps to the Chiesa and put our five white roses in the vase on the altar. This remains with me to this day and one of my most precious and dearest memories.
Once this was complete, the man from the council smiled politely, thanked us and left. We gave him about another 15 minutes, taking in the atmosphere and the energy of the place then returned to the walled garden, placed the iPod and the speakers next to the potted Lemon and pressed play…
“Pretty soon you’ll be able to remember her
lying in the garden singing
Right where she’ll always be
The door is always open.
This is the place that I loved her
And these are the friends that we had
Long may the mountain ring to the sound of her laughter
And she goes on and on…
In her soft wind I will whisper
In her warm sun I will glisten
Till we see her once again
In a world without end
I owe it all to Frank Sinatra
The song was playing as she walked into the room
After the long weekend
They were a lifetime together
Appearing in the eyes of children
and in the clear blue mountain view
We’re colouring in the sky
And painting ladders to heaven
And she goes on and on…
In her soft wind I will whisper
In her warm sun I will glisten
And I always will remember
Till we see her once again
In a world without end…
And she goes on and on…
She goes on…”
© Neil Finn/Tim Finn, “She Goes On” from the Crowded House album “Woodface” 1991
And again, my words failed me. I spent the majority of those first two hours of that day on my knees with my tongue tied knowing it was my place as her widow, to say so much but nothing would come out. I had listened to this album and this song for the best part of nearly 15 years and it wasn’t until she passed that its meaning hit me like a steam train. It was the only song that would do justice to her.
At around ten AM, we returned to a local cafe on the way back to the Casa, and spent a lot of time catching up, drinking too much coffee, feeding the local songbirds with crumbs from our plates, reminiscing on the adventures that we had shared with The Late Mrs F over her 51 years and the mark that she had left on us all, whether it had been me and the places she and I had seen or the God-children’s recollections of her looking after them when they were tiny, or my sister’s recollection of how she had been such a beacon to her and a source of strength when her own marriage had failed. We all had deep seated and important reasons to be there to say our final goodbyes to someone who had left an indelible imprint on our hearts and who was irreplaceable.
Pity I couldnt have articulated that on the day. We had what was left of that day, the majority of which was spent on the roof terrace of the Casa Albergo, drinking them out of coffee and white wine and the following day we were to return to the UK; BF and the god-children the same way that they had arrived, flying out of Verona, and Alison and I had to make our way back via Milan, Como, Zurich and Strasbourg in the XJS.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day as we all started our journey back to England, but today was to celebrate a life of someone who was no longer with us. After an evening meal at the Hotel Monte Baldo in the centre of the village, we retired to the Casa.
© text & photos Fubar2 2025
