As hard as it is to think about it, mum may never visit Foggia again. She gets no younger and has a worsening mobility problem, so perhaps subconsciously it seemed perfectly natural that she wanted to visit the grave of her mother, father and brother. The second of November (All Souls) is when one would normally visit a grave and, as we leave tomorrow, a visit to the cemetery it was.
Italian cemeteries are wondrous places, so different to anything that I’m used to. Rather than burial in the ground, it’s normal for common folk to be interred in the walls of an above ground building. The walls are over two meters thick and the coffin is pushed in feet first.
The not so common have their own above ground mausoleums, some of which are obviously architect designed and very attractive.
The cemetery at Foggia is huge and my uncle Nino is interred at one of the furthest points from the main entrance. It was a struggle for mum to get there. It’s so big that they have built a road around it to make access to the furthest points easier. The need for space is further exacerbated because, as far as I can see, there is no cremation.
Anyway, as I write, mum and Pia are in the kitchen loading up with food for tomorrow’s journey. Vegetables, meat and lots of fruit, most of which I know will have to be dumped, are being loaded into yet another bag. I’ll bite my tongue right now and fight with mum later. We have already exceeded our weight allowance.
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