A Final Tribute to Marco, My Son, My Business Partner, and My Friend
There are sorrows that words can never truly describe. The loss of a child is one of them. Anyone who has endured such an ordeal knows that, from that day onward, life is divided in two. There is a before. And there is an after. Sadly, I too am one of the fathers who came to know that pain. The day Marco left us, my world stopped. I did not lose only a son.
I also lost my business partner. My closest colleague. My confidant. My friend. Many people say that time heals all wounds. I do not believe it. Time does not erase pain. It only teaches us to live with it. But the wound remains. Not a single day passes without my thinking about Marco. Sometimes it is a photograph. Sometimes a song. Sometimes the aroma of freshly prepared espresso.
Sometimes a computer program that immediately brings him back to me. And sometimes... there is no particular reason. Then he is simply there. In my thoughts. In my heart. As though he never truly left us. Over the years, I replayed the final months of his life countless times in my mind. And the same question kept returning. Could I have done even more? That question will probably accompany me until the last day of my own life.
But today, above all, I want to dispel a great misunderstanding. Marco was not a weak man. Quite the opposite. For years, he showed extraordinary strength. Perhaps he even tried to remain strong for too long. He carried responsibilities far heavier than the outside world ever understood. He felt responsible for his family. His daughters. The people who worked with him. The projects in which he believed. The investors.
For me. When more and more things began to go wrong, he blamed himself above all. That broke my heart. Much of what was happening lay entirely beyond his control. Promises made to him were not kept. Doors suddenly closed. And some people quietly distanced themselves precisely when he needed their support most.
But Marco always turned first toward himself. He wondered what he could have done better. What he had missed. What else he could have tried. As though one human being could carry the weight of the entire world alone. Of course, that was impossible. No one can. And yet he continued to fight. Until the end.
That is why I hope no one will ever remember Marco only for the way his life ended. That would be profoundly unfair to him. One day can never tell the story of an entire life. Anyone who truly wants to know who Marco was must look at the thousands of days that preceded that final day. The curious little boy who wanted to understand everything. The student with a great passion for computers and technology.
The young father whose face lit up when he spoke about his daughters. The entrepreneur who smiled in the Glass Pyramid when a new idea finally worked. The son sitting beside me in the car during our journeys to Italy. The man who knew how to enjoy a good espresso. The friend who was always ready to extend a helping hand. That was Marco. And that is how I hope he will always be remembered.
I also want to address a few words to everyone who has experienced a similar loss. Never judge too quickly. A human life is always greater than the moment when everything became too heavy. Behind a tragic end, there is often a struggle that most people never saw. Show compassion. Listen. Be present. A sincere conversation cannot solve every problem.
But it can make someone feel that he is not alone. When I close my eyes today, I do not see Marco on his final day. I see all those other moments. Those are the images I want to keep close to me. Not because they erase the pain.
But because they are stronger than the pain. Marco... If, in some way, you can still hear these words... then I want to tell you only one thing. Thank you. Thank you for everything we were fortunate enough to share. Thank you for your trust. For your friendship. For your love. I am infinitely proud that I was allowed to be your father. And if life gave me the opportunity to choose again...
I would take exactly the same road with you, without a moment's hesitation. Because you were there. A father can wish for nothing more. Rest in peace, my son. Not in oblivion, but in the hearts of everyone who knew you. And for as long as I live... for as long as your mother lives... for as long as Michael speaks about his brother... for as long as Chiara and Laura say your name and later tell their own children who their father was...
you will never truly disappear. Love does not die. It continues to live in the people who carry someone in their heart. And that is why your story does not end here. It continues. In us. In the generations who will come after us. Forever.
