Page 20 of Choosing Hope
But in a move that surprised us all, she bequeathed her entire estate to Carlo and me jointly.
Her action instantly made us both millionaires.
It was a relief to be financially independent of our parents. And a fabulous fuck-you to all of them.
Though it was her last words written in a private note to both of us that changed our perspective on grief.
I take my copy of her well-read letter from my pocket.
“Would you like me to read it to you?” I turn and ask Dr. Kline.
“If you’re comfortable sharing it, yes please.” Her head bobs in gentle encouragement.
I take a second to compose myself, and then start reading.
My dearest boys,
If you’re reading this, then I’ve finally taken my leave. Ninety-three years is a long time to carry a heart full of stories, and I want my last words to find you not in sorrow, but in strength.
Carlo, my wild-hearted boy, my lion. You’ve always been fierce in your convictions, but I must say once more what I told you in life; put aside that headstrong defiance. It may have shielded you once, but it will not carry you forward. I’ve lived long enough to know that happiness is a rare phenomenon,and it never grows in the soil of old grudges. Let go of what darkens your path, even if you cannot forgive it. Bitterness only burns the one who holds it.
Spencer, my steady, thoughtful soul. You carried burdens you were never meant to bear. I saw how you loved, how you held things in to protect others. But life isn’t something to survive, it’s something to live. And love, in whatever form it arrives, is never shameful. Not once did I question the depth of what you and Carlo shared. It became apparent in the silences, the glances, and the years.
And Chess...Oh, that brave girl. She never stopped loving you; either of you. Her spirit endured more than most, and yet she gave everything she had to the people she loved. You must honor her not with grief but with joy. Let her memory urge you toward light, not shadow.
This world will always have bystanders—people with opinions that weigh nothing but speak loudly. Don’t give them your peace. Live boldly. Love hard. Go forth and conquer, boys. Disregard bitterness. And never, ever settle for half a life.
I’ll be watching from wherever the sun kisses the earth goodnight. You’ll know I’m there when the sky turns gold.
All my love,
Nonna
That September, only two months after Nonna’s death, Carlo enrolled in a business degree correspondence course. He was too loyal to leave his job. The hotel chain had sponsored his hotel management course and he was grateful, they believed in him when nobody else would give him a chance. Until this point, Carlo and I had been unfamiliar with such generosity. But he was doing this new course for him.
Over the next couple of years, his loyalty paid off. By this stage, his financial position meant that on paper he didn’t need to work, but he never even reduced his hours to incorporate his studies, seeming to need the routine.
When the hotel chain shares became available, he bought them and in no time became a major shareholder.
I’ve always been proud to call Carlo my friend—he was my constant, my anchor. But as we grew older, it became harder to hide the way we felt about each other.
Our friends teased us in good humor, never suspecting the truth, but every joke scraped against something raw inside me. I was ashamed of the love I had for Carlo—love that went far beyond brotherhood.
Carlo, always more at ease with himself, occasionally suggested we be honest and stop hiding our love. But he never pushed for it; instead, agreeing to keep our physical connection private, protecting me from a truth I wasn’t ready to face.
Consciously I worked out harder in the gym, honing my fighting skills and in my mind, increasing my masculinity.
“Sorry, Spencer, can I stop you there for a moment?” Dr. Klein’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
I glance up at her, waiting for her to quiz me.
“It sounds like Carlo accepted you even when you couldn’t fully accept yourself. What was that like...to be loved that patiently?”
There’s a sound in my head—low, insistent, impossible to name.
It’s been there for weeks, humming at the edge of everything. But when she says those words, it’s deafening.
“Do you think,” she asks softly, “you’ve kept your love for Carlo hidden...because that’s the only way it seems safe?”
