Missing Lazy Summer Days with My Dad in Italy
There’s a gentle magic in the lazy summer days I spent visiting my dad in Italy — a time of slow mornings, laughter, and quiet moments that stitched themselves into the fabric of my heart. Those days, bathed in warmth and golden light, are treasures I carry with me, especially now he has passed.
My dad’s quirky smile when I’d say something that caught his funny bone, his patient tone when explaining the dangers of my spontaneous adventures, and his quiet presence — so different from my mother’s larger-than-life personality — created a tapestry of memories that I miss dearly. These moments, simple yet profound, taught me about love, patience, and the quiet strength of a father’s affection.
In this post, I want to wander back through those summer days, relive the details, and share a glimpse into the gentle, enduring bond I was lucky enough to experience.
The Charm of Lazy Summer Mornings
The mornings in Italy were something sacred — a slow awakening for some, to my punctual father, it was the first of many daily early routines we shared. The aroma of freshly brewed espresso at the local bar we frequented each morning. Soft sunlight filtered through the windows that faced the streets. We would sip our drinks (my coffee and his tea) while we watched the world outside go about its business.
We’d sit together, sipping our warm drinks, watching the world wake up. I remember asking endless questions about his childhood. My father’s voice, gentle and measured, explained the stories in a way that always left me with more questions than answers. His words were laced with warmth and patience when I tried to pull for more information, but he rarely deviated from his stories.
Those mornings weren’t hurried or rushed — they were a gentle reminder that life is best savoured slowly, with patience and appreciation. I felt safe in that quiet space, surrounded by the beauty of Italy and my father’s steady presence.
His Quirky Smile and Laughter
One of my most vivid memories is my dad’s quirky smile — the way his face lit up when I’d say something amusing or absurd. It was a smile that made everything seem lighter, more humorous, and full of love. I’d often try to make him laugh, telling stories from my adventures or jokes in my imperfect Italian just to see that smile break through his face the way the sun filters through thick grey clouds at the most unexpected moment.
His reactions, a mix of amused chuckles and that infectious laugh, made me feel seen and appreciated. Even when I was being silly or reckless, his gentle humour and warm smile reminded me that I was loved, just as I was. That smile, a symbol of his kindness, stayed with me long after those days in Italy.
The Patience in His Guidance
My dad’s patience was a quiet, steady force. He had a way of explaining the dangers of my spontaneous escapades without scolding or raising his voice — just a calm, caring tone that made me listen. Whether I was tempted to explore randomly into a forbidden area, disappear in a flash, or try something new, he’d gently guide me, sharing stories of others’ mistakes and the importance of safety.
His guidance wasn’t just about rules; it was about caring deeply, about teaching me to be mindful and respectful of the world around me. Even in moments of mischief, his patience shone through, making me feel that he trusted my judgment — and that I was loved unconditionally.
The Quiet Presence: Different from Mom’s Larger-than-Life Energy
My mother’s personality was vibrant and lively — her laughter filled every room, her voice animated and full of life. My father, in contrast, was quiet — an anchor, a steadying force that offered calm and order. Those summer days revealed the beauty of his understated strength — the way he listened more than he spoke, observed more than dictated.
His presence was like a gentle river — steady, flowing, nurturing. I learned from him that sometimes, silence doesn’t mean absence; it’s a space for reflection, understanding, and love. I miss that quiet comfort — the way his mere presence could make everything feel safe and grounded.
My Unspoken Questions: Who Was He Before Me?
As I sit here recalling those sun-drenched summer days, I cannot help but feel a quiet, lingering regret — one that echoes in my heart. Despite all the memories and love I have for my father, I often wonder if I ever truly knew the person I called 'Dad' in full.
What were his passions, his dreams, the parts of him that existed before I came into his life? He vaguely talked about his days playing football, about moments in his youth, but I could never quite scratch the surface of who he truly was outside of his role as my father.
His existence was quiet — a gentle presence that only opened up as far as it was necessary. There was always an invisible line, a boundary I could never cross, that kept his world separate from mine. I realise now that I was always reaching for more, more understanding, more connection, but he remained an enigma wrapped in silence.
That line, delicate and unseen, shaped our relationship in ways I only began to understand in retrospect. It was a silent barrier, a part of his nature that never fully revealed itself. And with that, I wonder — who was he before I knew him? What made his eyes sparkle when he talked about his dreams? What were his own hopes when he was young and full of life?
It’s a gentle ache, this curiosity. A longing to see beyond the quiet exterior and understand the man who was quietly holding his own dreams, his passions, and his fears. I know now that some parts of him remained untouchable, even in those summer days filled with warmth and love. But perhaps, that is the beauty of a quiet existence — that even in silence, love persists, unspoken yet deeply felt.
Summer showers in my dad's neighbourhood [Image by Hadinet Tekie]
The End of Summer, but Not the Memory
Summer in Italy always felt like a fleeting gift — a time when the world slowed down, and love was expressed in simple gestures and shared moments. Those days, filled with laughter, quiet conversations, and gentle guidance, are etched deep into my soul.
Even now, when I think of Italy, I don’t just remember the sights or sounds — I remember the feeling of being loved unconditionally by my father, the comfort of his presence, and the peace I found in those lazy, sun-drenched days.
Though time and distance have kept me away from Italy, those memories remain a steady source of warmth. They remind me of the importance of patience, love, and simplicity — the true ingredients of happiness. Honestly, I doubt I'll ever feel ready to return to those streets in my dad's neighbourhood. Streets drenched in memories and times past. I know that his absence will be too heavy in my heart to be able to face those streets without him by my side.
[Image by Hadinet Tekie]
Looking Forward
I hold onto the hope that someday, I’ll return to Italy and spend another summer making new traditions. I look forward to exploring new moments and creating new memories.
Until then, I keep those days alive in my heart, revisiting the gentle smiles, the tranquil mornings, and the unspoken bond that made those summer days so special. And I carry with me the lesson that love, patience, and quiet presence are the most precious gifts of all.
A Personal Reflection
Writing about those lazy summer days and pondering the unspoken questions about my father makes me realise how love manifests in many forms — sometimes loud and expressive, but often quiet and enduring. My dad’s understated warmth and patience taught me more than words ever could — that sometimes, the most profound love is the one spoken in silence and held in the space between words.
Though I wish I had known more of who he truly was, I am grateful for the moments we shared and the love that never needed words. I carry those memories with me, hoping that in some way, I honour his silent strength and quiet love.
[Image by Hadinet Tekie]
Conclusion
Those lazy summer days in Italy with my dad are treasures etched into my soul. They remind me of the beauty of simplicity, patience, and quiet love — the kind that sustains us even when miles apart. I will always cherish those peaceful, sunlit days and the gentle, knowing smile of my father that made everything brighter.
In many ways, those days taught me that love doesn’t always need to be loud or obvious. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet, the patience, and the unseen boundaries that love quietly grows stronger — held in the silent spaces between us.
Warm Disclaimer: Memories of loved ones are deeply personal, and everyone’s relationships are unique. It’s natural to wonder about the unspoken parts of those we hold dear. If you’re feeling nostalgic or have questions about loved ones, give yourself grace—sometimes, love is expressed in silence, and understanding comes in time.
