Chapter 30 Marco Against Marco - Behind the Smile
There are people who show their sorrow. And there are those who hide it. Marco undoubtedly belonged to the second group. Anyone who met him without truly knowing him saw a young entrepreneur full of enthusiasm and conviction, with a contagious smile. When he entered a room, he immediately brought energy with him. He spoke passionately about his latest ideas. He listened to others with sincere interest. And he made people feel that anything was possible. But few people saw what was hidden behind that smile. I sometimes did. Not because he spoke about it, but because a father knows his son. I noticed that he became quieter. That sometimes he stood looking out the window for a long time without saying anything. That in the middle of a conversation, his thoughts suddenly seemed to carry him far away. When I asked whether everything was all right, I almost always received the same answer.
“Don’t worry, Dad.” But those words never entirely reassured me. I knew Marco was trying to protect me. He did not want to add more worries to everything I was already carrying. He knew my past. He knew how many times in my life I had been forced to begin again. And perhaps he thought he could spare me another disappointment. That was who he was. Even when he himself was under enormous pressure, he thought of others first. I still remember the evenings when we left the Pyramid together. We walked in silence to the parking lot. On some days, we had spent hours in meetings, held countless telephone conversations, and made many decisions. After days like those, neither of us spoke about our fatigue. We looked at each other for a moment. A small smile. A hand on the other’s shoulder.
Nothing more was needed. Between a father and son, there are words that never need to be spoken. Yet I sensed that the load Marco carried on his back became a little heavier each day. He carried not only the weight of the company. He also carried the responsibility he imposed on himself. He wanted everyone to be happy. He wanted our colleagues to feel secure. He wanted every project to succeed. He wanted our partners to continue believing in us. And perhaps, more than anything else, he never wanted to disappoint me. That caused me great pain. I never expected him to be perfect. I only wanted him to remain himself. I told him so more than once. “Marco, even if we were to lose everything tomorrow… you will always be my son.” He smiled. But I do not know whether he could ever truly believe those words.
The people who demand the most of themselves are often those who find it hardest to show themselves kindness. I understand that. Perhaps because, for years, I too had made exactly the same mistake. I too had long thought that I had to solve every problem. That I always had to be strong. That I could not disappoint anyone. Only much later did I learn that no human being can carry everything alone. For me, that lesson still came in time. For Marco, sadly, it came too late. I do not write these words to evoke pity. Quite the opposite. I want the reader to understand how difficult it can sometimes be to recognize the sorrow hidden behind another person’s smile. I had the privilege of truly knowing Marco. I knew how much love, loyalty, and courage were hidden behind his silence. His final struggle does not define who he was to me.
The hardest thing is the understanding that comes only afterwards. Sentences that reassured me then later take on a different sound. Silences I thought meant rest may have carried weariness or despair. Sometimes I search through my memories like a father trying to light one more lamp in a dark house. Not to find someone to blame, but to come closer to what you could not say then. Each time, I must accept again that loving someone is not the same as being able to know everything. I stood beside you, Marco, and yet there was a part of your pain I could not reach.
What remains is the courage with which he moved forward for so many years. A courage far greater than most people ever understood. When I think about him today, I see his smile first. Only then do I remember his worries. Perhaps that is how love works. It does not preserve the pain first. It preserves the light. And that light… will never go out for me.
Marco as a teenager with his mother Dorina.
When I think back today on the final years during which Marco tried with all his strength to breathe new life into our shared dream, I do not see a man who gave up. I see a man who never stopped fighting. Perhaps he even fought for too long. After every setback, he continued believing there had to be another solution somewhere. He had always been that way. When others said something was impossible, that was precisely when Marco began to think. There had to be another road. There had to be someone who would understand the project. Another opportunity had to arise. I recognized myself in him. Perhaps that was our greatest similarity. But perhaps it was also, at the same time, our greatest vulnerability. Both of us believed that honesty, hard work, and perseverance could overcome almost every obstacle. Life later taught me that, sadly, this is not always enough.
No company is built alone. We depend on people. Partners. Circumstances. And decisions over which we ourselves have no control. During those years, Marco began carrying an ever-heavier burden. He felt responsible for everything. Our colleagues. Our suppliers. Our projects. Our investors. Me. And perhaps he felt responsible to no one more than to himself. When something did not unfold as he had hoped, he never first looked for someone else to blame. He turned toward himself. “What could I have done differently?” “What did I overlook?” Those questions would not leave him alone. More than once, I tried to make him understand that we do not control everything in life. That sometimes we can do everything right… and still lose. Not through lack of commitment or honesty, but because circumstances are sometimes stronger than our will. For someone with such a profound sense of responsibility, that is particularly difficult to accept. Such a person continues searching for answers.
Like so many people who naturally care for everyone around them, he often forgot to care for himself. Today, I hope every father, every mother, and every entrepreneur will remember at least one lesson from this chapter. Carrying responsibility is a strength. But someone who feels responsible for everything and everyone also risks placing all the blame on himself. And responsibility is not guilt. We must never lose sight of that distinction. Do not ask only how the company is doing. Ask how the human being is doing. Behind every company is a person. And that person is more important than any project, figure, or result. A company can be rebuilt. A human being is irreplaceable. When I think about Marco today, I do not ask which projects succeeded and which failed. What I remember is that disappointment never hardened his heart.
That he continued giving. Searching. Hoping. Even when his own strength slowly began to diminish. That is the legacy he left. Not a company. Not a result. But the example of a man who wanted to do right by everyone and who, because of that, often placed himself last. A man who did not want to disappoint anyone. And that is precisely why he deserves more than our memory alone. He deserves our deepest respect.