A child marked from day one
Angelo didn’t fit in a regular crib. His clothes had to be improvised from adult fabrics. Every visit to the doctor ended with the same cruel pronouncement:
“He’s not going to live long.”
They said his heart wouldn’t be able to support his body, that his lungs were weak, that his life would be short. But Maria refused to accept that. She spent entire nights holding him, whispering that he was loved, that as long as she breathed, he would never be alone.
Giovanni, his father, worked tirelessly to pay for medicine and doctor’s appointments. He sold vegetables, carried sacks, and accepted any job. Not to become rich, but to give his son a chance.
The childhood of the lonely giant
At five years old, Angelo was already bigger than many ten-year-olds. At school, there were no desks for him, no kind laughter. Only taunts, shoves, and stares.
“Mom, why am I not normal?” she asked one day, her face full of tears.
Maria looked at him tenderly and replied:
“Because God used more love when He created you.”
But love isn’t always enough to stop cruelty. During recess, Angelo would stay alone, watching the others play. He was afraid of being pushed, of falling again and hearing laughter.
One afternoon he returned home silently, sat on his reinforced bed, and cried without making a sound. Maria found him like that.
“You don’t have to be strong all the time,” he told her.
“I’m tired of existing,” Angelo whispered.
She hugged him as if she wanted to protect him from the whole world.
