Grandpa Flavio

Grandpa Flavio
Without having to search in pictures or videos, just by closing my eyes flashes the memory of my Grandpa Flavio, a man to whom the word family meant everything.
I remember just asvividly as a recently printed magazine, somewhere in my nose I still smell his Old Spice scent, his so elegant beret with an Italian style, his big beautiful smile, his teeth so white as pearls, hiseyes as blue as the sky. It was hard to not love him; his way of listening so carefully to his loved ones. My mind carries those moments when we had big happy family reunions, all sitting around mygrandfather and his favorite snacks.
The amusement of hearing is adventures, stories about traveling to Europe and a bit of his adolescent life, which he didn’t feel comfortable talking about, Yearsafter when I was 16 years old, I remembering asking about my great-grandmother and other family members about him; When I asked him questions, I could tell he was surprised about my questions, but hewas more open to us (his grandchildren) and probably ready to express this difficult stage of his life.
He thought we had the maturity to understand what he was able to do to keep his family together;I remember him saying “I left my childhood in the eleventh grade” I remember seeing his watery eyes with a touch of sadness; I had a lump in the throat, but I was afraid to say something and make hisstory stop, then he began the story we always wanted to know.
I remember him saying that when my great-grandfather passed away he had to take the reins of his house, and help his mother with thebakery his father built with my great-grandfather, the symbol of a life of obstacles and a long history of family labor, I remember him saying that his mother, who lost the love of her life and herfamily support, fell into a deep depression that forced her in to bed for many weeks, forgetting to take care of his brothers and My grandpa, he said he understand what was happening to his mom and that...