The power of memories: how ancestors guide and protect us in everyday life

In a world that amplifies divisions and hatred, I think it is useful to reflect on what unites us, all of us, indiscriminately. If we think about it, we are all survivors of someone who has left us, too soon. What do we remember about the people who have left us, who are no longer with us? Remembering is not a passive act: we must play an active role. Remembering comes from the Latin re-cordari, cordis, heart in Latin, with the prefix re, to bring back to the heart. For the ancient Romans, the heart, not the brain, was the seat of memory.

In his 2017-18 show, Springsteen on Broadway, the rock legend shared personal memories full of stories and touching moments, such as when he recalls his mother, an extraordinary woman - of Italian descent - who always supported him, or the sadness over the loss of his musical brother Clarence Clemons. Then, towards the end of the show, he speaks about his legacy with disarming honesty and compassion. We have to make a choice, Bruce says, whether to become ghosts or ancestors for our families, our friends and - in his case - fans. The ghost is something we cast out, avoid as much as possible; the ancestor becomes a constant, reassuring role model and point of reference, a guardian angel perhaps?

I often travel by car from Geneva, where I live, to Milan, my home town, and vice versa. The motorway passes through Ivrea, the hometown of my father, Renzo Gallo, who passed away in 1981, he was 57, I was 17. I cannot explain why, but every time I drove past Ivrea I cried like a fountain. I was so upset that I had to stop the car, I just couldn't drive. I had never told this story to anyone except my wife, because I was deeply ashamed. Then, a few years ago, a dear friend called me: Paolo, I need to talk to you, but please don't think I am crazy or that I practise black magic... I burst out laughing and said that I was quite happy to listen to him. "Listen, I dreamt of your father, whom I have never met". He described my father perfectly and then added: "Your father asked me to tell you to stop crying when you pass through Ivrea. He told me that he is happy where he is and that you too should be just as happy and grateful for the Life you have and the people who love you'. I was speechless. So, the next time, driving from Geneva to Milan, I got off the motorway and went straight to Ivrea, fifty years after I had been there with my father. I booked, in a nice restaurant, a table for two and ordered a bottle of his favourite wine, a Barolo, and his favourite dish, a risotto with fontina cheese. I asked for two glasses and toasted my ancestor. The waiter probably thought I was a raving lunatic. Since then, I stopped crying, when I drive by I put on his favourite song, Hey Jude by The Beatles, and sing at the top of my lungs with him as we used to do together on family road trips: I started celebrating every single joyous occasion with him. I have so many imaginary conversations with him. My coach, my secret weapon. If I Google my father, he doesn't exist, not even mentioned: but I know where to find him, I learned it from the ancient Romans. Cordis.

I believe, nay, I am certain, that your ancestors are also beside you. They really want us to be happy and realise how lucky we are, to be here, now. They are still with us and protecting us. Your secret weapon.

I wish and hope that you can transform the acute pain of their physical absence into the profound peace of their spiritual presence.