My grandparents, European immigrants, during their marriage in Venezuela back in 1958

This photo is officially 68 years old today. It was taken 15 years before my mother was born, and 52 years before I was.

My grandfather was an Italian immigrant, he lived WW2 as a really young child (ages 2 to 7.) His family managed to save enough money the next decade to send him to Venezuela when he was 17, in 1954, so he could have a better life. The voyage was terrible and he almost died, but he made it. He founded an Italian restaurant in the little venezuelan town he lived in: my grandmother, whose parents were German and moved along with her to Venezuela when she was 9 months old, was a client of his. They ended up falling in love and building their home on top of the restaurant! They got married four years after my grandfather arrived in Venezuela. My mother, European by blood, ended up being culturally venezuelan, born and raised there. She married a venezuelan man, my father, and I was born many years later, in 2010.

I always look back on these pictures because just like my grandfather, I became an immigrant at a young age. After many years of crisis, I left Venezuela when I was 12. The destination was Italy! My mother always tells me he used to be sad he couldn't raise his family in his homecountry, which he loved very much. He always wanted to take his children and grandchildren there, but he didn't have enough money to do so.

He died before we came back to Italy, but I am proud to say his wish is now granted. I love my homecountry and I always will, but I am also proud I came back to my roots when I needed and was able to meet all the places from his childhood.

He was an Italian immigrant in Venezuela, and I'm a venezuelan immigrant in Italy!