Monica Maggioni writes:

Before the virus came, I was living in my usual, hectic way, going back and forth from Milan to Rome for work. As such, I turned a blind eye to the worrying news coming from China. Even the onset of contagion in the Codogno area near Milan was, to me, just another news story.

So when the virus came close, I was surprised to discover that hard choices had to be made — and fast. The first: Where do we wait this out? Do I stay in Rome, where I live and work, or go back to the little village outside of Milan where my aging parents live? Ultimately, I chose to stay close to my parents in case they needed help. The result is that my family is split in two by the virus.

Now I find myself confined in a place where time is suspended. All the shops are closed, except for groceries and pharmacies. All the bars and restaurants are shuttered. Every tiny sign of life has disappeared. The streets are totally empty; it is forbidden even to take a walk unless you carry a document that explains to authorities why you have left your house. The lockdown that began here in Lombardy now extends to the entire country.

For many Italians, the normal warnings about this virus were simply not enough to change behavior. Denial comes too easily, perhaps. It was more convenient to blame some foreign germ-spreader, or pretend that the news was unreal. Then came a reality check: Last Sunday, Pope Francis gave a benediction not from his normal window at the Vatican but via video, in part to avoid the crowd on St. Peter’s Square but also to send a message. That was the first strong sign to snap out of it.

Now, the ancient wooden doors of all the little churches in all the villages are closed. Older people here in Lombardy remember that even in wartime, the churches were a shelter for all, a place of shared relief. Now the idea that even funerals cannot be celebrated is a source of further anguish. These days, in Italy, you die in silence and you’ll be buried in silence. [Continue reading…]