Ever since he was a teen, my man has been in love with little old ladies. He has a knack for befriending them, visiting them, and taking care of them. There were two little ladies as he was growing up that he visited regularly, Anna, and Lily. It is likely that he visited them more than their own families did. He spent many hours of the week as a teen sitting and chatting with them in their living rooms, bringing them dinner, or accompanying them on walks. Long since departed, their photographs are nestled in between our family photographs on the bookcase at the end of the upstairs hallway. We have an antique secretary desk sitting in our bedroom that belonged to one of them, on which I write and pay bills. Amelia and Diego have played with their hand-made stuffed animals--long after their makers had passed.
Giancarlo will be the first to comment on a cute little old lady in the grocery store, or chat with one in line at the post office. As long as I have known him, he has always had a little old lady somewhere in his realm of existence that he checks on regularly. I think he has a mental charm bracelet that he attaches them to, and carries them around with him. I think he collects him just like that.
Currently, our garage is half full of some of the belongings of one such little old lady. Her husband died a few months back, and when she had to move to a smaller place, she had nowhere to put her living room furniture, chairs, washer and dryer, or fridge. And because of some mysterious estrangement issues with her own children, she didn't have anyone to help her move, either. So Giancarlo hired a couple of friends of ours who are movers, rented a truck, and moved her things for her, as well as helped her clean out her old place. I know he secretly would like her to move in with us, and if we had even one spare square foot in this house of ours, I bet she would.
I can always tell when he is talking on the phone to one of his old lady friends, simply by his tone of voice. Even when it has been a long, frustrating day, he will take time to call them to see how they're doing and to offer his assistance or just a listening ear.
He has a heart of gold. No matter how many times we've argued or sat together in uncomfortable silence, there has always been that. That heart of gold.