Dear Claudia Del DucaI am writing to you because I cannot help it, and this letter is not just for you, but for all those daughters in love with their fathers who have lost them too soon like us. Dear Claudia, I am writing to you because I do not need to be your best friend to know that you adored your father, as I adored mine. Dear Claudia, I am writing to you because, even though four years have passed, I still can't talk about my father without crying and by the fourth line of this unstarted letter my eyes are already watering. If I called you, I would be no help at all to you. Finally, dear Claudia, I am writing to you because I have seen you and Genuine Del Duca about a couple of weeks ago, at the presentation of the Buon Ricordo 2023 restaurant guideand we exchanged a few words, and your dad didn't fail to tell me to visit you again. When I heard he had died I was watching the World Cup, Argentina was beating France 2-0 and it was the anniversary of my father's death: 18 December.
I have no difficulty in thinking that these days everyone will be looking for you and you will either look for them in turn or hate them, one by one. They will be different phases of your mood, states of mind that you cannot control. Don't be afraid to live them and show them: only an idiot wouldn't understand. When my father died I had days when I was absent. Those were days when my brain was totally disconnected from my actions and I did things automatically. In those days I lost clients (I was still working as a web designer at the time), did all sorts of shit and even got engaged to the worst of assholes (fortunately I came to my senses within a few months). You can only do better.
I do not know what Genuino Del Duca died of. I don't know whether he was struggling with a long illness or whether it was a sudden illness. My dad died after a year and a half of unspeakable suffering, after cycles of chemotherapy, immunotherapy, radiotherapy and an amputated leg. My father died after fighting like a lion, when the disease had so changed his appearance and character that my mother and I almost did not recognise him any more. But we recognised his will to live and the dignity with which he faced the disease. And above all, I was the daughter he loved more than himself, and I am still moved to think of him working for me with the tablet even during the chemo session. To try to help me as much as possible while he was there and to feel alive until the very end. In the last few years I too had started working with my dad like you.
My father bequeathed me the greatest wealth: believing that there are no impossible dreams. I think your dad left you as much: wasn't he the one who left the carabinieri to pursue his love of good food and wine? Wasn't he born that way Podere Marcampo or the restaurant where we celebrated his 63rd birthday together? At Enoteca Del Duca, which I am not at all surprised was in the Michelin Guide, I ate an unforgettable truffle carbonara and pigeon on my way back from my honeymoon, when I stopped in Volterra 'to pretend I was harvesting hard' as every good wine influencer does at least once in a lifetime.
Four years have passed today. Four years in which many things happened and he was not there. Four years in which I got married, graduated, did a master's degree and had a constellation of work successes that would have made him even prouder than he already was. Four years in which I focused on work with a dedication inconceivable to anyone who has not experienced what I have experienced and what you, most likely, are experiencing. And here I have some good news for you: doing a job that you love with all your heart is the most precious of allies to chase away the tears in a drawer and forget the pain. I know, this is not enough to feel better, but it is still a great help to live everyday life with a semblance of normality and serenity. A psychologist would tell me that four years later I have not processed the grief. I would probably reply that I don't even want to grieve, and I don't care if anyone thinks I'm crazy or depressed: although I behave with the greatest possible fairness towards everyone, I've never given a damn about what others think of me and I'm not going to start worrying about it today at 37.
Dear Claudia, I am writing you a few more lines because by now the tears are flowing so copiously that I can no longer bear them. I think I will eat a chocolate. Yes, chocolate also helps the mood, but don't do like me and eat too much of it: you are so beautiful! Take advantage of your job that forces you to relate to the outside world - it's a blessing even if today it seems like a sentence - to get out, get out a lot. The sun, as well as walking, help your mind so much. Listen to music you like. Enjoy wine, food and whatever gives you pleasure. And take in the only good thing about this horrible thing that has happened to us: now you know how fragile life is. We all say Losing our lives is a moment, but we only realise that it is really a moment when we experience things like this. Being aware that we don't know how far we will evolve before we start to decay, whether it will be gradual ageing or we will suddenly crack like a falling bottle, helps us to put us at the centre of our lives first. And that is by no means obvious or easy.
Those who say that thinking of yourself first is selfish are more idiotic than those who will not understand your mood swings or the mistakes you will inevitably make during this period. Don't be afraid to push away people who are toxic to you, whatever role they play in your life. Doing your best to live the time you have as you wish and not as others expect is a fundamental right of every individual. Yours and mine too. So never forget that life is unpredictable and our body is a wonderful but delicate machine: pursue your dreams and live as you see fit in this life that has been given to us by our parents. And remember that even if the time with your dad wasn't enough, you, like me, had a dad who loved you.
I tell myself this every day, when evening falls, and I miss her soothing and beautiful voice so much that it stops my heart.
A big hug🍷
Chiara
EN 
IT