The Story of Life and Courage of Pietro

I received this story from Marco, Pietro’s father. Needless to say, it is similar to Emanuele’s. I decided to publish it today.

In July, everything seemed normal. Pietro had just finished an internship and gained admission to the University of Modena for Automotive Engineering Enzo Ferrari. A brilliant boy, still a student at an ITIS, ready to participate in the traditional summer camp at the oratory. But that morning, a simple headache turned into a nightmare in a few days.

Initially, a little pain and a few tea bags seemed like nothing serious. Then, in 2–3 days, the headache became unbearable, accompanied by vomiting. We quickly found ourselves in the emergency room: a CT scan revealed a hematoma caused by a tumor. The doctors, almost embarrassed, forced us to fly immediately to Milan.
Pietro had already lost a friend, six years earlier, to the same disease. That coincidence created a deep bond: between us and the father of that friend, sitting on the same bench, united by hope and pain.

After seven days of preparation, Pietro underwent a seven-hour surgery. After the operation, the first signs of the disease were visible: his left leg and hand were weakening and his eyesight was starting to falter. That evening, the doctors told us, in a serious voice: “The histology is terrible…”
On August 1, at home, we tried to rebuild normality: home physiotherapy, walks to try to maintain strength, moments together with friends who also came to help him with his homework. But something was no longer right. On August 13, the bandages were removed, the confirmation arrived: a grade IV glioma, the most aggressive tumor, measuring 8.5 cm and weighing 82 grams. Numbers that seemed like a sentence.

To protect Pietro, we decided not to tell him anything. On August 15, with friends, he had a “grigiliata”: a moment of joy, in which the wound was not visible and he could smile. But on August 16, the first epileptic seizures, vomiting and headaches forced him to bed. From that day on, between one hospital and another, the fight for his life became increasingly difficult.
Despite the attempts, the tumor continued to bleed. Pietro accepted, with almost superhuman strength, the treatments that were proposed to him, without a tear or a word of fear. A courage that still leaves a lump in my throat today.

On August 31, while we tried to keep him awake with the passion for cars and motorcycles that he loved so much, Pietro smiled, as if to say “today is not my day”. But at 5:30 pm, a sudden shock made him faint. The following day, a doctor declared: “If I don’t operate today, he will die”. We accepted, but the vision in intensive care was heartbreaking: Pietro, intubated and with visible drains, suspended between life and death.

After twelve long days of waiting, as we held his hand, his heart gave out. In less than two months, our story, so short and intense, ended. Pietro loved life. Basketball, motorcycles, cars: each of his passions was a hymn to joy and freedom. He prayed on the graves of his idols, such as Marco Simoncelli and Dražen Petrović, and he always had an eye on his boys, to whom he transmitted love and hope.
Pietro’s memory lives on in the embraces of his friends from the Cappa Ricci oratory, who greeted him with a sincere message:

“We greet Pietro, friend, companion of adventures, who today has reached the house of the Father. We are sure that he is already playing basketball in heaven, together with the children. Our prayers are with his family and with us, who loved him so much.”

Even though his life was short, Pietro left an indelible mark. His story reminds us that, despite the harshness of the disease, every moment of life must be lived with intensity and love. His memory encourages us not to give up, to seek beauty even in the most difficult moments.

Today, as I prepare for the Camino de Santiago, I carry Pietro’s thoughts with me, hoping to find the strength to help those who, like him, fought until their last breath.

Pietro, thank you for teaching us the value of every moment. Your light continues to shine in the hearts of those who loved you.