While rifling through one of the largest "memory collections" –a tattered shoe box, overflowing with orphaned pictures, that has with stood the test of time- I picked up this picture and my mind was filled with its allotted thousand words. I didn’t need to ask how my grandmother felt being given away to the most uncertain future a young woman can imagine, it was all right there…

1956 was a landmark year in the union of my grandparents. Those were the days when the masses left their homelands in search of a new, better and hopefully prosperous existence. A whole new generation of Canadians began. The Immigrants: fathers, starting anew, slowly earning enough money to send for wives and children; whole families waiting to be greeted at the dock by relatives who have already made the journey and established themselves; newlyweds anxious to build a life for themselves and their future children; the bachelors who leave behind parents, brothers, sisters and maybe even a girlfriend or fiancée. These men will work day and night for the sake of having a better lives than the ones they have known. For me, one of these bachelors has a name, that of Gabriele Forlini, my grandfather. A temporary place to live was the purpose of my grandfather’s immigration. Canada was not going to be the place where Gabriele would build his life; he was going back to Italy as soon as he made a sufficient amount of money.

Anyone who has been in love knows how hard it is to approach the one you love. This is rendered even harder when there is an ocean between the two of you, but since love has no boundaries, good old grandpa persisted. In November of 1956, a few months after he emigrated from his native Italy, a very courageous Gabriele wrote an "Air-O-Gram" to Maria Santoro, a young lady he had acquainted himself with before his departure. My grandmother was quite sought after by the bachelors in the town - she was easy on the eyes - but never had she received anything like this! She recognized the man who wrote to her, but found it odd that he pursued her even after his emigration. My grandmother was interested and willingly continued the correspondence, but it took a while until she would give her suitor a definite answer, and even then, the distance between them was an ever-present obstacle. In time, Maria finally let go of her anxieties and succumbed to the enchanting words she read every ten days in the letters from her Prince Charming.

" Montreal November 11, 1956

Dear Maria,

Finally after what seemed like an eternity, I received the long awaited YES to my proposal. Maria, while reading your letter I couldn’t help but notice that you were a little cold towards me and if I’m not mistaken, this coldness is due to the great distance between us; it does not permit you to rightly judge my character, nor does it let me know yours. I don’t want to hide the fact that you’re right, but I’ll have you know that I was born and have lived in an educated and civil manner. With this, I would like you to understand that I know how to forgive wrong-doings. My promises to you will never fade, that is from the moment I bring you before the altar, I will call you patroness, patroness of myself.

Maria, in my hour of solitude, I can not do other than think of you and how far you are from me, however, let’s hope that this distance will be ever so small once you are here with me. Maria, believe me when I say I love you more than my own life. I know you’re a good person and I marry you with all my heart. I think we will be very happy together. You will never regret having married me.

I assume you received my photograph although you made no mention of it in your letter. I hope you will send me a picture of yourself in your response. I await it anxiously. The paper is running out and I can not permit myself to prolong this letter to you. Give my best to your family.

Yours forever,

Gabriele

P.S. I beg you to write me a long letter for I will never tire of reading your beautiful words."

When a girl reaches the ripe old age of five, it is not unusual that she begins to dream of her wedding day. She dreams of a fairytale wedding when she will wear the prettiest white dress imaginable, stand beside the love of her life before all who have come to witness their union and later dance the night away with this man in the presence of their families who’ve come to celebrate. It is on a day in 1957, almost a year since the first letter was sent that this love story reaches a turning point. As Maria opens the envelope to read THE words written on the a piece of carefully folded pink paper her childhood dream takes a back seat; Maria would not wear her white dress while dancing at a banquet in her and her husband’s honor. A proxy marriage was set for the 7th of July 1957. What was supposed to be the happiest day of her life was a day of mixed emotions for my grandmother. Happy she was, but how could she be one hundred percent happy when she knew that up the church stairs, her fiancé, the man she loved so much she would soon marry was not going to be at her side smiling at her as he lifted her veil for the ceremonial kiss? Gabriele’s brother, Arturo who would take her sweetheart’s place, and all who had come to admire Maria in her moment of glory would have to settle for a shy smile instead of a beaming bride. This situation was no easier for my grandfather. His plans too were changed. Bringing over a bride meant he would have to stay in Canada indefinitely.

Although Maria would not have to leave Italy to join her husband for a while to come, there were insecurities about leaving her natal town – her definition of home and stability- for a man she’d only corresponded with by mail and spoken to on the telephone but once. Nonetheless, that following December she left for Montreal. The long boat ride left much time for thought. Maria thought of what life would be like in the new country, who would be waiting for her at the port, where she was to live, would she have children? All this was to be shared with a man she knew little about, but she did know she loved him.

Forty years have passed since the day my grandmother left everything familiar to venture to this strange land. There was a time when my grandparents would have gladly swam across the Atlantic for a taste of the "old country", but that time has long past. Their hometowns have morphed from a reality, to a memory and merely a place to visit. Their present reality lies with the family my grandparents single-handedly built in their new land. The future that my grandmother was so very uncertain about is now a very certain past she can be very proud of.