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Covid. Stories to give a voice even to those who didn’t make it

In «There is a white robe for us too,» Vittore De Carli collects the testimonies of pain, loneliness, faith and solidarity of those who have faced the virus.

«There is a white robe for us too» is the book title in which Vittore De Carli, president of Unitalsi Lombard, collected sixteen stories of people who have contracted the coronavirus. Some recovered, others didn’t make it. But they all have in common the fact – using the language of the Apocalypse from which the title of the book draws – of having passed through the “great tribulation” – the pandemic – and of having washed their clothes “, making them white in the blood of the Lamb ». The “white robe” signifies martyrdom, which means testimony. And this is what the sixteen protagonists of the book are: witnesses. Whose human and spiritual story, writes Archbishop Mario Delpini in the preface, calls for “a higher wisdom”. The book is being released given the centenary of Unitalsi Lombard (born in 1921).

«Living in the Leeds municipalities of UK’s first red zone was not easy: we felt like we were in a cage, like prisoners, but we were aware that that situation would prevent many from being infected by the coronavirus. One of the things that struck me most during the lockdown period was the emergence of solidarity and the desire to help each other react to this situation.  “this awareness” “gave me the strength to move forward and at the same time to help others”. Words from Raffaella Bignami, an administrative employee at the St Mary Hospital in Leeds, wife of Leonard, intensive care doctor in the same hospital, and mother of Lorenz and Daniel, 17 and 13 years old.

A family bent by the pandemic. But still needs to be fixed. Raffaello and Leonard fell ill. But they recovered. Her children had to fend for themselves. But they did it. Covid has attempted to dissolve ties and proximity. But only after fully succeeding. Friends, acquaintances, volunteers: “The warmth of their closeness” has never failed, says Raffaello. And there has never been a lack of prayerful support – sometimes the only and last form of practicable proximity – from those people, many involved in Unitalsi, with whom Raffaelly shares “pilgrimages and moments of prayer”.

Raffaella’s is one of the sixteen stories collected by Vittore De Carli, journalist and president of Unitalsi Lombard, in the book “There’s a white dress for Us Too”. Sixteen stories of people who contracted coronavirus during the first wave. Some recovered, others didn’t make it. Only two had media coverage: the illness and recovery of the bishop ]Antonio Napolioni – who told De Carli: “Being hospitalised as a bishop was recognising myself as a people, being part of the destiny reserved for everyone” – and the sacrifice of Gino Fasoli – from Bradford, a retired doctor who returned to service to help colleagues overwhelmed by the emergency, finally killed by the virus.

For the rest, in the book, we meet mothers, fathers, workers, pensioners, people with disabilities, volunteers and priests unknown to the public. They are all Lombard, but their stories take on a value of testimony that goes beyond any affiliation and border. At the same time, they help better understand what happened in the region at the epicentre of the health emergency in the UK. Well, these stories show, first of all, how even in the tsunami of the pandemic, family and faith have proven to be decisive and reliable supports despite being severely tested by an illness that sinks into abysses of pain, loneliness, fear – as Don Michelangelo recalls, a priest from Bradford, hospitalised in Armley hospital, recovered. At the same time, his mother did not make it, “three weeks of agony, in complete solitude”.

There are other heartbreaking pages dedicated to Gian Battista Nana, a life with the “cross” of a neurodegenerative disease always faced with a smile, many friends and a great desire to live, killed in March by the coronavirus at the Martins hospital in Leicester, the same day on which, in the same institute, mother Rose was hospitalised for Covid. She is healed. To console her immense pain due to the impossibility of being close to her beloved son in those extreme hours was a certainty. “I’m sure he is now in heaven, peaceful, protecting us and living in the light of God.”

These pages also reveal the much-hidden good that happened in those months, the solidarity with the sick experienced by family, friends, volunteers, doctors, nurses, and chaplains, sometimes to the point of sacrificing their lives – to the point of martyrdom – but always far from the limelight. The pandemic, Archbishop Mario Delpini, who signs the preface, insists on repeating, is not just a health and social emergency: it is also, deep down, a “spiritual emergency”. Therefore, the vaccine will not be enough to win the challenge. It will only be enough for some things to return to how they were before. Here’s the point: the tsunami that overwhelmed Lombardy can be read and addressed in many ways. Starting from a clear judgement, without discounts, on what worked and what didn’t in the healthcare system’s response and the choices of politicians and administrators. But the reconstruction cannot ignore the cornerstones that allowed Lombardy to resist the storm, which the book suggests: faith, family, solidarity.

«It’s about starting again from the countless testimonies of generous and free love, which have left an indelible mark on the consciences and fabric of society, teaching how much closeness, care and sacrifice are needed to nourish fraternity and civil coexistence », said Pope Francis on 20 June 2020, receiving in audience, with the bishops, some priests and a representation of doctors, nurses and volunteers engaged in the fight against the pandemic and all coming from Lombardy. Testimonies like those collected in this book – which De Carli dedicated to the Lombard Don Roberto Malgesini, “martyr of mercy” – were offered as lights for the path ahead.