If There Is a Place Beyond This Life!
As a physicist, I tend to see the world through the lens of evidence and reason. Yet, more than ever today, I wish there were something beyond this life, a place where we could one day meet again the people we have loved, the people who made us better simply by being part of our lives. Today has been one of the hardest days I have experienced in many years. Throughout the day, I had to wear the mask of someone carrying on as usual, while inside I was grieving a profound loss. During the conference at the Max Planck Institute in Erlangen, I quietly left the lecture hall several times, unable to hold back my tears, as memories of one of the most influential people in my life came flooding back. When I submitted my PhD thesis in 2009, I wrote these words:
“I must say thanks to a great man who, like a saint, devoted his time to all physics students at the University of Naples. Mr. Guido Celentano was a man who welcomed every request with a warm smile.”
I could not have imagined then how true those words would remain all these years later. This even makes it tougher on us, since Guido, Rahil, and I planned to reunite after 3 years, and he couldn’t make it at the last minute because he needed to remove her mom’s belongings from the house. I resisted having a rest and a meeting in November, which I now deeply regret. Guido, or as I would say in Neapolitan, mio paisà, was more than a friend. He was like a brother. I have never met anyone who gave so much of himself to others without expecting anything in return. Every student, every colleague, every friend who crossed his path was touched by his kindness. He dedicated his life to caring for others, even those he met for the first time, especially his beloved parents, and now he is reunited with them. When I think of Guido, I always picture him arriving at Monte Sant’ Angelo on his bicycle, greeting everyone with his unmistakable smile and a cheerful “Ciao.” There was something extraordinary about his presence. Sharing a coffee or lunch, with a 10-minute walk to the canteen, with him was never just a break from work. Our conversations drifted from physics to the deeper questions of life, to conflicts around the world, and to how each of us could do more to help others – he was always knowledgeable and among the few people who regularly read newspapers. Looking back, I realise how much he shaped the way I think about compassion, responsibility, and caring about people – thank you, mio paisà, Guido! He also introduced me to one of my favourite traditions: weekends in Nerano, a place where I would like to close my eyes for the last time. Although he was naturally reserved and spent much of his time caring for his parents, whenever he had a free day, he would join Teresa, Luca and me, and lead us on a long journey, first by train, then. Bus, and finally 40-minute walks through protected natural areas where nature remained untouched. His love for the environment, his vegetarian lifestyle, and the quiet consistency with which he lived in line with his values made him a role model. He never preached. He simply lived with kindness, humility, and integrity, and inspired everyone around him to do the same.
People often speak about intelligence, success, or achievements. Guido reminded us that the greatest achievement is to leave the world having made other people’s lives better. He did exactly that.
Rest in peace, my dear friend, my Paisà. One day, if there is another life beyond this one, I hope we will meet again, sit together over a good coffee or a granita with limoncello, and continue the conversations that always seemed far too short.
You will be deeply missed.