Becca.
If anything, the receiving line at the Cathedral was even longer than the first one. People paid their respects, kissing the late Don Valentino on both cheeks before taking their seats. It was a full house.
James and I sat at the front along with some cousins and other relatives once mass was about to start. It was a full Catholic Mass, with the blessing of the bread and everything.
As a Protestant, I did not go up to receive communion, something James's family, and those in the rows behind, noted and began to gossip about. Apparently, James was supposed to be with a good Catholic girl.
The bishop—for the bishop himself had come to perform the mass—gave mass in Italian. I didn't understand a word, but James leaned over and at least quietly translated the homily for me. James the
