Life Goes On - Sicily Version

From John: This is my first Vagabond blog post. I know. I'm a slacker.

Today we went to visit Chiesa di Sant' Ippolito martire, a church with an ancestral connection. The church is in the neighborhood that hosts the Capo market, established during the Arab rule of Palermo (810 -1190).  According to the church website, the parish was established as early as 1267. This ancient church was enlarged to a chapel in 1583. The Baroque facade was part of a refurbishment between 1717-1728 from designs by Italian architect Andrea Palma. 

This church is where my 7th great-grandparents Nunzio Pillizzeri and Onofrio di Carlo were married in 1631 (as shown in the marriage at the beginning of the post). 

Nunzio is 7th great-grandfather in the Impellizzeri line.

Nunzio and Onofria are also my 10th great-grandparents via my mother Virginia's mother's line.

As I viewed this ancient church I realized how deep my ancestral roots go in this land. I wondered how many lives have played out in these streets? How many days have been spent shopping in this market?

These were the thoughts spinning in my head when we decided to go inside to take some pictures. After taking a few shots we heard a noise at the church door. We turned to see six pallbearers carrying in a casket. Crying family members followed behind. We respectfully went back outside. 

We decided to wait until the service ended for more photos. Chris wandered a bit and I sat outside the church. I watched as many people passed by. Locals, I assume, and the elderly stopped for a moment, crossed themselves and moved on. Since you could look right up the aisle and see the funeral, many others stopped as well. Tour groups and tourists peeked inside, many taking pictures. A fruit vendor across the tiny street from the church door took it upon himself to shoo them away, informing them "Abbi rispetto, qualcuno è morto". I admired that.

Chris brought back an arancino, which we enjoyed sitting near the church, continuing people watching.

Having decided not to wait for the service to end, we moved on through the market. I was standing near a stall when I felt something bump me. I turned around to see the casket, carried on the shoulders of the pallbearers, as it wound its way through the crowded market, many of the vendors and customers taking a moment to cross themselves and pay their respects to someone who probably lived their whole life amongst them on these tiny, crowded streets. 

Throughout that day I reflected on those moments, the juxtaposition of the busy market stalls, the shouts of the vendors, old people buying their food for the day with the solemn acknowledgement of a life that has passed. I think about these moments, every one filled with meaning and importance, unfolding infinitely back through time and I truly understand the phrase, "Life goes on"