My uncle will never see his home again.
The ceiling of his house in the centre of Paganica fell for the earthquake of last April.
Together with his wife Ivana and daughter Elda, they went through the whole calvary of non maintained promises. They were hosted in common tents for months, wearing second hand clothes distributed by the helping organizations, until they realised the camps were to be evacuated for making space for Berlusconi's circus.
They organized themselves. A relative offered them a roulotte. Another one a space in a garden to park it, far away from work and from the social environment they had always been living in.
Apparently the damages to their ancient house are not structural. They wanted to fix them themselves, to be able to go back home, and than wait for the funds promised by the government.
They were not allowed. They were only allowed to go in once, months later, to collect some personal stuff.
He had a heart attack. He was hospitalised 120 km away from the roulotte they were living in.
Some weeks later, last week, he died. He was 63.
He leaves behind a wife and a daughter. He will never bring them home again. In the home he wasn't allowed to fix himself.
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