Renzo Bertacchini

Renzo Bertacchini was 91. He passed away last week, alone, in an ICU bed. He was my grandpa. Mi abuelo. Il mio nonno.

I got the news from my sister, poor thing, she didn't know how to tell me, so she wrote me an email because she couldn't call me and say it out loud without sobbing. He was old and ill, so we knew his time was near, and yet the reality of the goodbye hit us hard all the same. We will miss him, with his heavy italian accent, his dry sense of humor, his cheek "pinches". I will miss him.

He made the BEST toasted bread slices (I know, it sounds weird, but in Argentina we don't actually use electric toasters, you have use SKILL!!!) for us when we were kids for our afternoon snack (la merienda, which is an official meal in Argentina).
He walked us to school and picked us up, he loved us in the only way he knew how, with his actions. Sometimes with his super tight hugs. For me the hardest thing has been not being able to be there to see him one last time, to hold his hand, so give him a kiss. To hold my brother and sister as they said goodbye. I was here, not there, and for that I will always be a little sad.

Chau nono. Nos vemos,un beso grande!
Tu nieta, la gordita, la Maria!