Before coming back to Italy, I hadn’t had the slightest inkling that you can lose someone twice and that grief can take on different forms based on language. Two Sundays ago, I was calling my brother, my closest friends, barely mouthing the words “dad passed away”. Surprised anyone could even understand. After the calls, I was writing the words in Whatsapp groups and in Facebook posts, robotic-like, using copy and paste. At a certain point, I think I became immune to the English words, both spoken and written. Then I arrived in Italy. No more copy and paste, no more immunity. It was like the very first day all over again when I heard myself say aloud “è morto”. That verb makes me shudder. He died. Too abrupt, too point blank. I started using the kinder versions of “se n’è andato” and “è scomparso”, the former literally meaning “he went away” and the latter, “he vanished”. Italian also uses the verb “mancare”, which means to lose or to miss. A person is missing, lost, never to be found. Where did they go? It uses “spegnersi”, the non-reflexive version of the same verb meaning “to turn off” or when talking about a candle…to blow out. Si è spento. His light has gone out. The options are endless, one seemingly more eloquent than the next, Italian providing the perfect vessel to poetically dance around the subject. Mio padre ci ha lasciati dopo una lunga malattia. My father left us after a long illness. In my Anglo-Saxon mind, I envision someone packing their bags in the middle of the night, an oil lamp burning and a taxi waiting in the fog. Ci ha lasciati. He left us. And so inevitably I’ve been accosted by the good intentions of colleagues, friends, and family on this side of the ocean. Condolences is the same word in both languages. Go figure. Little do they know that talking about it in my second language, Italian, is like experiencing everything all over again. It’s not their fault nor is it the fault of languages, but I suppose it’s due to the way the mind lives in two languages and consequently all our experiences are interpreted in a kind of duality, a linguistic binary state in which I feel loss in two different ways, on two different continents. The words “se n’è andato” do not overlap on “he’s passed away”, but exist indignantly as a completely separate entity and thus build up arithmetically rather than one cancelling the other out. Currently, I'm waiting for that immunity to develop in Italian, the kind that, like in English, comes from repetition and routine. I whisper to myself in that quiet moment before sleep, the almost-dark: se n’è andato, è scomparso, è mancato, si è spento, ci ha lasciati.
15 Comments
9/5/2017 01:49:44 pm
Pretty words just don't do justice to the finality one feels. I know exactly how you feel. When I called my Italian cousins to tell them about my folks it was "è morto or è morta." My mind just couldn't conjure up anything that would soften the pain I was feeling. Yes -- all those emotions attack the minute you start saying the words. I'm thinking of you. Un abbraccio forte.
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Jasmine
9/5/2017 01:55:00 pm
Thanks for sharing this Marisa. Yes, and who knew that they come up after switching the language, I actually didn't expect that, always thinking that Italian, being a learned language, couldn't really have the same "effect"...
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Nila
9/5/2017 01:54:34 pm
My deepest heartfelt sympathies to you. I know exactly how you feel and wish I hadn't known the pain of losing family so close and dear . You're in my thoughts X
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Jasmine
9/5/2017 01:56:02 pm
Thanks Nila, your comment and words mean alot.
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Jasmine
9/6/2017 03:17:32 pm
Thanks Sara. I JUST subscribed to your blog newsletter :)
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Jasmine
9/7/2017 09:39:18 am
Thank you Domenica.
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Jasmine
9/8/2017 10:20:52 am
That means SO MUCH coming from you, I adore your writing. THANK YOU.
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9/10/2017 09:21:39 pm
Oh Jasmine!! Why didn't you tell me last week when we were working on the GG!?! You could have just cancelled. So sorry to hear your news . I lost my Dad to cancer when I was 14 so I kind of know what it's like but as a child you don't quite get it as much. I can't imagine what you're going through. Anyway I was going to write and say this: Hi Kristie! I’ve nominated you for the Blogger Recognition Award to let you know I’m really loving your blog on my journey as a newbie blogger! Read my acceptance post and learn how to accept your nomination at: https://www.mammaprada.com/home/2017/9/10/blogger-recognition-award
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Jasmine
9/10/2017 09:33:17 pm
Hey Kristie, don't worry it was a good distraction. I prefer to have things to work on to be honest. Sorry to hear you also lost your dad to cancer, it's sure not a discriminate disease hey...ugh, it's just the worst. Thanks so much for the nomination though and I will definitely try to keep up the cycle, I just have to think of 15 bloggers!!! Wow! :)
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Wow, I hadn't even thought of that happening. I think I would have assumed like you, that it would not be as hard in your second language. I bet your dad was so proud of you for turning life into a great adventure and learning so much by living in Italy and learning the language.
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Jasmine
9/13/2017 02:52:36 pm
Ya me too...I didn't really think it would have any effect whatsoever. Strange hey?
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