When I was 78, I pulled an unexpected move that left my family and friends in shock—I got rid of every single item I owned and bought a one-way ticket to Italy. The purpose of it was simple: to go back to my previous life and love Sofia, of course, after almost 60 years we had been apart. But we do not rule our lives and love as it often does, and fate had other plans ready for me.
A Love Interrupted by Time
It was in Rome in 1965 when Sofia and I were first acquainted. I was a young American student who was visiting the country, and she was a local artist who found a lot of joy in life. Our love was so intense that we went on walking in the city, dreaming of our future, and exchanging promises; the days became one long day with no end in sight. Our plans for the rest of our lives were shattered by fate. My visa was no longer valid. My parents and siblings demanded I return home at once. We certainly knew we would meet again, but the years and miles we were separated by, and our commitment, slowly led to our breakup.
My family was my priority; I got married and started a career. Despite all life’s changes, I still remembered Sofia. I lost my wife several years ago, and when my kids were grown, I was left alone with my thoughts. Later, I was looking through my old letters and discovered a picture of Sofia that was taken many years ago. At that moment, I became sure. I had to search for her.
The Turning Point of Life
The search seemed endless, but after I had been looking for a few months, I realized she was living in Rome. I wrote her a letter with my hands trembling. A few weeks later, her handwriting,nwhich was as elegant as I remembered, was seen on the envelope. She was a widow as well, and when I asked if I could see her again, she wrote ‘Yes.’
I decided to put my house on sale, sell the car, and give most of the things away, only taking a bag with necessary belongings. My children thought I was foolish, but at the time, I had no worries. At my age, what was there to lose?
Thy Unexpected
The flight to Rome felt like an eternity. My heart was racing, and the moment the plane landed, I had an epiphany, in which I was seeing us again—her smile, her laughter, the way her eyes would light up when they saw me. Then, I went directly to the address and to my surprise, an old man opened the door.
“Are you here for Sofia?” he asked kindly. I felt a pang in my stomach.
“I’m her brother,” he said. “She died last month.”
The room was spinning. I stood there, hanging on to my suitcase, unable to talk. He welcomed me in and handed me an envelope with my name on it. Inside, there was a note:
“Please, if you are reading this, it means we missed the last train. But be sure, no matter what, I will love you forever. Thanks for reaching me, even if it was in spirit only. Live the rest of your days happily, for both of us.”
A Brand New World
After she died, I went on to live in Rome because I wanted to honor her memory, even though I felt very heartbroken. I found a little place from which I could easily go to the places that we used to visit in the neighborhood, and I rented it out, all by myself. On days I breathe in the air of the café where she and I first saw one another, and she sitting beside me comes into the picture. And sometimes, I saunter in the streets where we had walked, and I seem to reach her in the elegance of the city that never changes.
Nor was it the way I was looking at it, but looking back Sofia was somehow the truth— love is always lingering inside you. Even though we were not destined to be together, the assurance that our love story has not been forsaken gave me peace.
It happens to be that I am 78 years old now and the writing of the memoirs is keeping me busy. Not a story about a man who went through the pangs of unrequited love, but that of someone who was fortunate enough to have been in love with the same person twice.
