gossamer
the domestic minx
26 Comments
Alas, dear reader, I find myself in tears tonight.
For Il Maestro is dead.
And as the soaring notes, the sad lament of Pagliacci fills the room, bringing with it a sharp sting of tears, I am reminded with vivid poignance of Luciano Pavarotti's greatest fan, my own dear Nan.
For it was at her feet that I was introduced to opera.
As a surly teenager, it was initially the least appealing of all music genres for me to listen to, yet at the feet of my darling Nan, her little eyes closed in bliss to the voluminous voices, visceral and filling her every sense, it became a treasured pleasure, a rare glimpse of the passion my grandmother had once known.
It was with an almost religious devotion that she knelt at the altar of Nessun Dorma, rapt in those soaring C's; the enormous voice of her dear Prince moving her with the fervour and passion she reserved for those moments she became his sweet Principessa.
It was inevitable that I would come to love Luciano with the same dedication, his passion palpable, his intensity both irresistible and as inspirational as the gentle wisdom of my Nan.
Tonight it seems, as darkness falls and the stars set on the greatest tenor of our time, I can see my Nan smiling, adjusting her hands in her lap, as she prepares an audience with her love, who sings to her in Paradise...
So it is, dear reader, because I must, because it is so right, that I bring you once more, "Butterfly Wings", a tale of love, a sad yet bittersweet story of tragedy and poor timing, yet a sweet and infinite synchronicity.
It stars, of course, my Nan and her darling tenor...
Piacere...
My Nan was in love with Luciano Pavarotti.
No one else could move her like the singing sofa.
With his beautiful and blessed voice booming magnificently from her old turntable,
she was transfixed, transported.
Nessun Dorma was by far her favourite, reducing her to tears at each sitting.
She would become lost, nestled in her armchair, hands knitted, her little eyes closed tight against the flutter of memories, bittersweet and brave.
With every ounce of strength she would fight the tears, her lips moving with his,
her resolve strong, of little use by the time the chorus conspired with
Il nome suo nessun sapra!...
e noi dovrem, ahime, morir
to bring the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Beautiful, beautiful.." she would whisper as the crescendo died and vincero
was swept away with tramontate, stelle!
Preparing to visit Nan for the final time last year, knowing that my moments with her would be to say goodbye, I knew instinctively what to do.
I would play her Nessun Dorma.
Mum and Nan and I would sit and knit our hands together. We would rejoice in the lament of Luciano, we would close our eyes together and fight our tears until the chorus could hold it back no longer.
It would be farewell. It would be eternal. It would be beautiful.
e noi dovrem, ahime, morir
But Nan died before we even got to Hong Kong.
Before we arrived in Sheffield she was lying cold, sad and alone in the funeral home.
Of this my memory is eternal. My memory is horrible.
But as I organized her funeral I knew what would be booming out of the speakers as we brought her down to the front of the church.
It would be her Luciano and Nessun Dorma.
Of course there was not a dry eye in the house.
Pavarotti made sure of that.
And it was beautiful.
I could feel Nan with me, her gentle touch a butterfly kiss against my cheek.
Two weeks later as I consoled Mum with a holiday in Spain and we wandered the cobblestoned streets of Seville, an unexpected turn down a lonely alley brought us to a square and an old gift store.
Sitting outside the shop on a wooden bench sat a thin old man, his worn suit, his crooked cap, a flashback to an earlier time. His eyes were closed, his lips were pursed, but against his ear was pressed a transistor radio and as we wandered closer to the store window he brought it down to his chest instinctively, as if to let us hear what was playing.
Oh, it was beautiful.
Was it? Could it be?
Yes, it was Pavarotti.
It was Nessun Dorma.
And it was Nan. Oh, it was Nan...
And I felt her hand...
Ah, dear reader, there is beauty and magic in the sweet synchronicity of moments that reach out in whispers to the heart..
My Nan believed it to the end and, across space and time, her thoughts reach out to me, fluttering gossamer against my temples...
"aye luv, our thoughts are living things..."
Rest In Peace, both of you, live on through the passion of Nessun Dorma and sing to me sweetly of kisses, the delicious sleep of stars and the soft beat of butterfly wings against my heart.
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Reader Comments (26)
Indeed.
And we shed a tear in our house too Minx. Hard to think that he has passed into history and we will have recordings and that is all.
xxxx
Michelle darling,
He has our thoughts and memories too...
And as my darling Nan always said,
"Thoughts are living things."
Those two are so inextricably linked in my thoughts that both will never die...
Not in my thoughts, anyway...
xox
What a MAGNIFICENT story.
I am so sorry for the loss of Nan. I truly wish I could have known her. You are so lucky to have had her in your life and bring such gifts of music, opera, and art into your world.
i've been listening to pavarotti all day on my pda on low volume (cus i'm at work). he was my favorite of the three tenors and was certainly an artist among artists. he will surely be missed. thanks for the tribute to a legend.
Aye luv, Meleah,
She were a magnificent woman, me Nan...
And what a magnificent man she introduced me to...
Vincero!
xox
He certainly was a man among men with that enormous and extraordinarily monumental voice, Raffi.
He helped bring opera to the masses and for that the world can be ever grateful.
I will never miss him while I can hear his voice...
and I do so often.
xox
My heart goes out to you dear minx...your nan was and is a beautiful woman...may she and her pavarotti rest in peace.
PS. I have missed your writings so dear minx! I have been very busy with the new job I am just now getting around on the blogsphere :)
Oh my darling Lady Terri!!!!!
You have returned!
I have missed you too, darling and so glad you are back on board!
Jobs are so demanding of one's time, aren't they!!
Kisses and hugs,
xox
what a beautiful tribute... not only to il maestro... but to your wonderful gran as well... i am not a fan of opera,, but i am familiar with pavarotti,, as he is so well known... thank you for this... it was beautiful indeed.....
What a magnificent voice. I am not surprised you love such a big, bold and brilliant man and opera certainly suits the diva in you.
Your nan, what can i say. Beautiful.
Pavarotti helped bring opera to the people and, whether one likes opera or not, it is impossible to remain impervious to his blessed, beautiful voice...
He is inescapably bound to the memory of my dear Nan, so he will always remain precious to me, dearest Paisley.
xox
A Diva, Eddie?
Indeed, I fear you know me too well...
And such a bold, beautiful brilliant man makes such a beautiful soundtrack, does he not?
Ed il mio bacio sciogliera il silenzio
che ti fa mia!
xox
Sad indeed. I've been listening to him all day.
What a loving tribute to your Nan, she doesn't sleep while you're still alive to love her.I get a lump in my throat at the climax of Nessum Dorma, and did again when I saw that Pavarotti had died - though usually I wouldn't give him a second thought.....I think it's the passing of beauty (in his case aural beauty)that we lament.
ps. I'm doing a Melba and will be back in the water on Monday. Thank you for your encouragement, it made a difference - it means a lot to me if even one person cares if scaryskinny lives or dies....does that make me pathetic?
His big beautiful voice has been filling my rooms all day too, Whit...
Such a sad loss..
xox
She'll never rest with me up and singing her praises, Thinista, - though not half as nicely as her darling Pavarotti...she found him utterly mesmerizing, aurally and visually. Despite his girth, I think he was rather gorgeous in a big, bold and larger than life way!!
It certainly is a passing of beauty...
Speaking of which, I'm glad you're returning to the pool....I could not believe you were thinking of deserting your post. I would miss you immeasurably! I thoroughly look forward to getting my hands on your goss and find your site enormously entertaining.
We all get a little jaded sometimes darling..
And pathetic it is not, to feel a little perturbed, pouty and pissed off!!!
I LOVE SCARYSKINNY!!!
xox
Ms. Minx
What an exquisite tribute to a true Rock Star and your beloved Nan. The world is a duller place for the loss of such luminescence.
Your way with words is incomparable. Each post you create is an aria my friend.
Love
M
Aw Miiiinx....I've got a big lump in my throat after that...GULP
My darling M,
A God indeed!
Their passing means only that their luminescence shines on from beyond the grave.
Arias, ahh...
Grazie il mio caro amico.
xox
And so, darling Thinista, I send you kisses, hugs and supportive back slapping and such, in abundance!!
xox