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Taken from some lines written as a dedication for a gift
Domenico Bruno Menniti was a great man.
My Doctor passed away last week; one of the problems he treated betrayed him, almost by a twist of fate.
My doctor passed away last week. The very illness he dedicated his life to treating is what ultimately betrayed him — almost as if fate had played a cruel joke.
Who knows how many lives he saved…
I will always remember what he did for me, how he took care of my life.
I will always owe him so much.
I hadn’t seen him for a couple of years, he had been ill for a while and I never even had the chance to go to what should have been my last check-up with him.
But what truly pains me is not that missed visit—it’s that I never got to say goodbye. To thank him one last time.
So I made a promise to myself: I won’t forget him. And I will try, in my own way, to take care of others, just as he did. Not as a profession, but simply as a way of honoring the kindness he embodied.
I’m sharing this story with you so you can understand why I’m giving you this book.
All I ask is that you read it fully, seriously, and with me in mind.
In truth, you would be the one giving me a gift—because by reading it, I would feel as though I’ve repaid, in some small way, a fraction of the good that my doctor, Mimmo Menniti, did for me.
I owe him that much.
