06/03/2026
Where do I even begin?
This trip has been a long time coming. On June 16th, it will be one year since I lost my mom. The past year has been one of the hardest of my life.
She was Italian American, and going to Italy felt like a way to walk the streets her family came from and carry her with me.
Grief has a way of making you reach for the things that feel like home, even when home is somewhere you have never been before.
Our journey took us through Venice, where wandering the quiet streets and standing inside St. Mark’s Basilica felt like a dream. In Florence, the Renaissance came alive, but it was stepping out into the hills of Tuscany - visiting a local villa and exploring San Gimignano, Siena, and Pisa - that truly stole my heart.
From there, we headed south to Sorrento, the most personal stop of all. My family roots trace back to nearby Naples, and being there felt like coming home in a way I wasn’t fully prepared for. I could feel my mom there more than anywhere, especially while taking in the magic of Capri and the Amalfi Coast from the water.
Then came Rome, where standing in silence under Michelangelo’s ceiling in the Sistine Chapel and walking through St. Peter’s Basilica and the Colosseum was humbling, profound, and entirely breathtaking.
But the greatest gift of this trip wasn’t a landmark. It was having two weeks with my whole family together. With my kids normally scattered in different cities and life pulling us in different directions, none of that mattered. We were just together - laughing, exploring, and making memories to carry forever.
Somewhere in all of it, I know my mom was right there with us.
Italy, you were everything.
Mom, this one was for you.
LivingLegacy