Dear Emanuele …
You left us six years ago, and every day since, your memory lives with me. Today, I feel the need to talk to you, to share with you and with those who follow us the journey we have taken, inspired by what you taught us. Your presence was a gift, and even though you are no longer physically here, you continue to light up our lives and guide the work we carry out.
You taught me so much, Emanuele. You taught me respect for nature, its beauty and fragility, a value that I hold in my heart every single day. You taught me the value of teamwork, not only in the sport you loved so much but also in life. You showed me the importance of friendship and sincerity, of seeing things as they truly are, even when they are hard to accept.
I still remember that day in Trento when, with a strength that still leaves me speechless, you answered my question, “Emanuele, do you need anything?” as I was about to head to the hospital cafeteria, with a phrase I will never forget: “Dad, I need a new life.” Despite the pain, you were capable of a lucidity and truth that was disarming. That phrase taught me never to lose sight of what truly matters and to try, in my own small way, to offer those who face your same “monster” the tools to fight, the hope to move forward.
Our website, www.glioblastomamultiforme.it, was created in your name. Since that summer of 2019, it has grown to become a reference point for hundreds of thousands of people, not just in Italy. Every day, we continue to receive requests for information and support from patients and caregivers, and we have expanded the scientific committee that supports us to cover the entire country and include all centers of excellence in research. This year, thanks to extraordinary funding from the Friuli Venezia Giulia Region, we launched the project “Hope and Courage”, which will come to life in 2025. This project will provide specialized psychological support remotely for patients and their families, a true clinical trial to demonstrate how much this support can make a difference. Emanuele, in my heart, I know it is thanks to you that all of this has become possible.
Looking to the future, there are still so many dreams and projects to achieve. We are working on the new Glioblastoma Navigator, a more user-friendly system than the previous one, which brings together patients, caregivers, specialists, and artificial intelligence to fight this disease together. It will be a platform that provides hope and concrete tools to those facing such a difficult journey. And, as always, we will continue to publish updates on the latest research, organize interactive videoconferences on specific topics, because information is one of the most powerful weapons we have. Soon, we will also launch an Instagram channel with short videos about glioblastoma and how to face it.
But none of this would be possible without “teamwork.” Emanuele, this is something you taught us—when you, already in a wheelchair, continued to train your little basketball players in Aquileia. Now I want to share this lesson with those reading: this battle cannot be won alone. That is why I invite anyone reading this to join us. Share your stories, offer support to those in need, help us spread awareness and support the projects we carry forward. Together, we can make a difference.
Last night, thinking of you, I prepared some candied orange peels. A simple gesture, but full of meaning. Even in the sadness of your absence, I found a moment of sweetness. You taught me that even in pain, one can find a “collateral beauty,” a reason to move forward, to help others, to give meaning to our lives. Emanuele, it is thanks to you that all of this has become possible.
We will keep fighting, for you and with you. Thank you, Emanuele, for everything you have given us and for everything you continue to teach us. I love you,
Your dad.
