How I found my way home in a cathedral in Italy

Italy.

The answer is Italy. If you caught last week’s column, Dear Reader, you left me stuck on a mountain top in Oman with a husband who was using his frequent flyer miles prowess to get us home.

“How about Milan?” he piped up as he worked his booking voodoo.

He found a beautiful hotel and two first-class seats through Dubai into Milan for pennies, as he’s apt to do.

“We can tour the city. We can go to Lake Como,” went his unnecessary pitch.

He had me at “Italy.” This is how I ended up inside The Duomo.

The mind boggling beautiful 631-year-old cathedral in the middle of Milan.

Votive candles caught my eye and pulled at my heart.

Better to pay up before Ipr ay up, I figure.

I lit a candle for my mom.

And one for the mother of friend, Heidi.

My friend Cater, her mom got one, too.

As did the mother of my friend, Carolyn.

Three dear friends. We’ve all lost our mothers in the last year.

Not a single one of us is Catholic.

If I broke some huge rule, I apologize.

I just come from the school of prayer, good thoughts and positive ju-ju.

Idon’tthinkanyis wasted, no matter where you come from or where you’ve gone.

“Darla. You need to light a candle for Darla,” Husband broke into my thoughts.

My heart rose in my throat.

Thinking of my beloved 17-year-old dog who passed at Christmas.

And, I fell just a step more in love with Husband right at that moment in the Duomo.

This man, backlit by flooding sunlight. The one who wasn’t going to marry me because he wasn’t an animal lover — even an animal liker.

He loved me enough to become an animal “tolerator” and ultimately

someone who loved that old dog more than he knew possible.

And here he was thinking of Darla when we were considering all the blows to our hearts this past year.

It felt like forever I waited for him to show up in my life.

I get to have him now. But not my mom. Just as my friends don’t have their moms.

Ilooked back at the burning candles.

My five were just a few in the sea of flames, the rest lit by strangers, reminding me I’m not the only one with loss.

I think we each have a candle to burn.

Is this fair?

I think it’s possible this is by design.

Maybe not for you, Dear Reader.

Maybe every single person you’ve ever loved is alive and in your life right now.

This has not been my experience.

A candle is always meant to be burning for someone we love and someone we miss. This is heartbreaking. The candle burns, warming our hearts and strengthening our appreciation for the ones who are here right now. That is the answer.

That is how I found my way home inside a cathedral in Italy.