Preface
Why I Wrote My Story
Thousands of books have been written about kings, presidents, artists, entrepreneurs and people who have left their mark on history. I am not one of them. I am not a celebrity. I have never won a war, broken a world record or made an invention that earned me a place in the history books. I am simply Renato Rossi.
A son of Italian parents. A husband. A father. A grandfather. A brother. A friend. An entrepreneur. And above all, a human being who, like so many others, has tried to give meaning to his life. Why, then, did I decide to write my story? Not to put myself in the spotlight. Not to receive admiration. And certainly not because my life is more important than anyone else’s.
I am writing this book because I believe that every person carries a story within them—a story that risks being lost if no one tells it. No human life can be captured completely in a single book. Yet I felt an ever stronger need to preserve something of the road I have travelled and of the people who shaped me. As long as someone remembers us and speaks about us, a part of us lives on.
I was born on 5 June 1948 in Loreto Aprutino, a small town in the Italian region of Abruzzo. A few months later, my parents brought me to Belgium, where my father worked as a miner. Like thousands of Italian families, we left our homeland not in search of adventure, but out of necessity. My parents left behind their family, their language and the life they knew, driven by the hope of giving their children a better future. Their courage forms the first page of my story.
The first thought of this book did not arise at a writing desk. It arose in January 2022, during the coronavirus pandemic, when I suffered a heart attack. At the emergency department, it was also discovered that I had COVID. I was completely isolated in a separate ward. Because immediate treatment was not possible, I lay there between life and death. I could barely breathe, was extremely weak, could hardly move, and felt constantly dizzy.
Only a week later, the first two stents were placed. Three months after that, two more followed. My rehabilitation took a long time. During that vulnerable period, I realised more clearly than ever how suddenly a life can change and how much remains unsaid when someone is unexpectedly no longer there.
Michael had asked me several times, ‘Dad, how are we supposed to carry on when you are no longer here? We actually know so little about you. What are your final wishes?’ Those questions were not easy to hear, but they came from love and concern. I understood that my children knew many events from my life only in part and that some stories risked disappearing if I did not tell them myself.
So, day after day, I began writing down brief memories. At first, I was not thinking of a real book. I gathered everything on a USB drive and designated a special place where my family could find it when I was no longer here. That USB drive was my first way of leaving something behind: not possessions, but words; not a complete history, but the experiences and feelings I did not want to be lost.
Slowly, those separate stories grew into My Life—In the Name of All My Loved Ones. Some memories are great because they changed a life. Others seem small: a hand on a shoulder, a conversation at the table, a look between father and son. Often, it is precisely such moments that tell us the most.
This story, therefore, is not only about me. It is about my parents, Antonio Rossi and Guglielmina Di Pasquale, who taught me the meaning of sacrifice and dignity. It is about my brothers and my little sister Lidiola, whose short life nevertheless remained part of who I am. It is about Dorina, with whom I built an entire life, about my sons Marco and Michael, about my grandchildren and about the people who stood beside me at decisive moments.
My professional life is included only when it reveals something about the person behind the business: my curiosity, my dreams, my mistakes, my perseverance and the people who helped me begin again. I worked with coffee and espresso, ceramic tiles, software and innovation. I experienced wonderful successes and painful setbacks. Today I know that my achievements are not my greatest wealth. My greatest wealth is the people I met along the way.
Marco is the heart of this book. He was far more than the way his life ended on 27 August 2009. He was my son, Michael’s brother, a father, friend, colleague, business partner and dreamer. I want to show who he truly was and, at the same time, speak honestly about the bipolar disorder and depression he fought. Not to reduce him to his illness, but to make visible how deeply psychological suffering can remain hidden behind a smile. If these pages help someone to listen, speak or seek help sooner, his story will gain an even deeper meaning.
This book is not an accusation and does not point a finger at anyone. It is my memory, told with the knowledge and feelings I have today. I do not portray myself as a hero. The real Renato is curious and full of plans, but also stubborn, sometimes too trusting, and not always willing to recognize his limits in time. Only when those sides are visible as well can this story truly be mine.
In the later years of my life, I began to think more about the meaning of encounters and the quiet bonds that connect people. I sometimes call this the invisible thread through my life. I do not expect every reader to share that thought, and I do not wish to present what I cannot prove as certainty. To me, that thread is mainly about love, memory, intuition, gratitude and the people who were close at exactly the right moment.
Above all, I wrote this book for my family: for my children, my grandchildren and the generations that will come after me. One day, perhaps, they will no longer be able to ask me who I was. I hope they will then find me in these pages. And if my story also brings recognition, opens a conversation or gives someone the courage to begin again, then it will have achieved its purpose.
This is not the story of an extraordinary life. It is the story of an ordinary man who had the privilege of meeting extraordinary people. That is why this book is called My Life—In the Name of All My Loved Ones. Because, in the end, nothing of what we are belongs to us alone. We are the living sum of everyone who loved, helped, challenged and forgave us, and who gave us the chance to become the person we are today. I dedicate this book to them.
With profound gratitude,
Renato Rossi