My little sister once wrote a paper on Avery DeLuca, our "ice cream grandpa." Today (3 September), as our train came to a stop in Italy, I was overwhelmed with emotion and found myself missing him. All around me, I could hear families chattering in Italian, and a sweet, old, Italian couple arguing playfully. I watched the Italian man and something struck me, bringing tears to my eyes as I thought about so many memories with Grandpa DeLuca.
Ever since I was young, I have dreamed of coming to Italy-- to see the heritage of this incredible man. Grandpa D, as we affectionately called him had a love for people. He would go for a walk and return with stories of mothers, children, young people he had met. He never hesitated to strike up a conversation with anyone, and he loved... oh how he loved! When we would visit, getting ice cream was always the next thing on the schedule after dinner. And though, we lived several thousand miles away in Colorado, he always sent "ice cream" money for mom and dad to take us out.
I'd like to think I am a lot like him, or have taken on many of his Italian characteristiscs... maybe... his artistic/Italian temperament, his love for people, his sense of adventure... maybe... I definitely have taken on his love for ice cream. Maybe that is what has brought me back to Italy so many years later and why unexpectedly, I have found myself emotional as we cross the border. Maybe I want to discover this part of my heritage-- Afterall, I am proud to be Italian (like my grandfather) even if it is only a small percentage preserved in my last name.
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