This is a letter from a mother to a disabled child, published Tuttiinsieme, "The magazine for those who make more effort to live", which was founded several years ago by William Clare, a courageous girl of Verona, herself severely physical problems, "I was born at noon on Friday. Without great fanfare, quickly, without making me suffer too much. Her eyes were closed, the tongue hanging out, I looked and I thought: "How ugly!" But I did not have the courage to say and I said, "How little." Things did not improve over time. Everybody knew, all around us, unless your father and me. They sent us by a famous physician. When it goes back to the house, you put it back in the cradle, I looked and prayed, "Lord, God, God takes away: Take it Back Time:" What is his useless life? ". Forgive me my son. We then asked him for forgiveness, and I ask forgiveness of your life now useless?
learned that you were a child like the others, only with different problems. When you said "mama," wept for joy, even if you had three years. When, on unsteady legs, I corresti meeting and opened his arms and I was happy, even if you had more than four years. It taught me patience. When at that time, nobody wanted, neither the school nor the company, I learned to be humble, smiling, polite because someone did a caress. It taught me humility. When people began to notice you and those like you, I began to fight, and fight again, because you were accepted. It taught me to fight. Finally, when the other mothers for their children dreamed of first place in school, career, society, I was content of your initial progress. It taught me to desire happiness for my children, not wealth or success.
And when her aunt came to live next to us, exacerbated its woes, with a character impossible and unbearable, the only vacuum that all the relatives they had created around and unable to be alone, once again you showed your life helpful but not necessary: \u200b\u200bfor twenty-two years the company you did, day after day, enduring his despotism, sometimes his arrogance, volendole well, softening its sad moments, making her smile for your use paradoxical. Twenty-two years intended purpose in his life, a rhythm on his life, a reason for his actions. Needless to your life? When she died, I get it back for us. Your father and I, with maturity, we met a new tenderness, understanding never before achieved, and all three spent the last happy holiday island of Elba, the most beautiful of all our lives. Then the disease, the mercy of your father. When I returned from disparate cemetery, I found you again, at home, I did not know anything, that you understood, but which "feel" for that mysterious feeling that you have, something that terrible had happened. And for you I went back to first survive, then, although to a lesser extent, to live for thee I started to work, to fight. You are my company: If I have a pat, even if someone hugs me, if anyone still reminds me that the need for tenderness is ageless, I owe to you. If I can still bring happiness to anyone, this is you, who just so little to be happy. Needless to your life? ". (GV, Venice)
learned that you were a child like the others, only with different problems. When you said "mama," wept for joy, even if you had three years. When, on unsteady legs, I corresti meeting and opened his arms and I was happy, even if you had more than four years. It taught me patience. When at that time, nobody wanted, neither the school nor the company, I learned to be humble, smiling, polite because someone did a caress. It taught me humility. When people began to notice you and those like you, I began to fight, and fight again, because you were accepted. It taught me to fight. Finally, when the other mothers for their children dreamed of first place in school, career, society, I was content of your initial progress. It taught me to desire happiness for my children, not wealth or success.
And when her aunt came to live next to us, exacerbated its woes, with a character impossible and unbearable, the only vacuum that all the relatives they had created around and unable to be alone, once again you showed your life helpful but not necessary: \u200b\u200bfor twenty-two years the company you did, day after day, enduring his despotism, sometimes his arrogance, volendole well, softening its sad moments, making her smile for your use paradoxical. Twenty-two years intended purpose in his life, a rhythm on his life, a reason for his actions. Needless to your life? When she died, I get it back for us. Your father and I, with maturity, we met a new tenderness, understanding never before achieved, and all three spent the last happy holiday island of Elba, the most beautiful of all our lives. Then the disease, the mercy of your father. When I returned from disparate cemetery, I found you again, at home, I did not know anything, that you understood, but which "feel" for that mysterious feeling that you have, something that terrible had happened. And for you I went back to first survive, then, although to a lesser extent, to live for thee I started to work, to fight. You are my company: If I have a pat, even if someone hugs me, if anyone still reminds me that the need for tenderness is ageless, I owe to you. If I can still bring happiness to anyone, this is you, who just so little to be happy. Needless to your life? ". (GV, Venice)
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