Robert Bellini

My son Robert

Feb 1, 1976 – Aug 10, 2025

The loss of a loved one at a young age begs the question about destiny, and about the existence of a Divine Power. We wonder why such Power condemns some intelligent, honest and physically fit human beings to a life of utter suffering for no apparent reason. It is with that question in mind that I think of Robert, my third son. Like his two brothers, Robert too seemed to be headed to a successful professional career after earning three university scholarships for an engineering degree. But that was not meant to be.

Robert was diagnosed with delusional paranoia, a form of schizophrenia, in his very early twenties. It was the beginning of a life of misery and suffering, with only brief periods of lucidity. He lived most of his adult life in two different worlds: the real one and a delusional one. In the real world he was a smart, caring, friendly and compassionate young man, while in the delusional one he believed to be the target of bad people wanting to hurt him.

Robert had a strong sense of fairness and loved domestic animals. I remember the day when I trapped in a cage a mischievous and stubborn squirrel from our garden. I asked Robert to help me relocate it. We drove out to the woods, far away from home. I then asked him to let the squirrel out of the cage, into his new world. He took the cage, placed it by a tree and stared at it for a long while. I asked him what he was waiting for. He said in a sad voice: “He is going to be all alone, dad, without a family, that’s not fair.” I was moved by that comment and agreed to return the squirrel back to his family.

That episode resurfaced ominously in my mind now that he departed this world all alone, far away from his family, a fate he did not want the squirrel to suffer. It’s heartbreaking, but I know that in his moments of lucidity Robert was fully aware that we, all of his family, loved him unconditionally, all the time, while feeling the pain of his mental illness.

Your mom departed this world ahead of you, Robert. She is there to hug you and hold you tight again, as she always did when you were a child. Your suffering is over, Robert, and like the squirrel you once saved, you will now understand that we all loved you. You have always been and will continue to be in our hearts as the loving boy you used to be.

Surely your earthly suffering is now being rewarded with eternal happiness in the company of family members.

Requiescat in pace, Robert