Today is the second anniversary of Bob’s passing. I am here in our apartment in Ascoli Piceno, a city north east of Rome near the Adriatic Sea. It’s been called a hidden gem in a country of jewels, and it's steeped in history, more than three millennia of recorded history.

This city was special to Bob, to both of us. We loved learning about Ascoli's long and complex history, its local culture, the diverse cultures throughout the Italian peninsula and beyond.

It’s here that I feel closest to Bob, where I learn more about him and from him.

I recently picked up a large book that he kept here in our office. It’s called Modern Italy - A Political History. It’s just the kind of book he would love to dig into — historical accounts of political movements that have shaped our world.

I’m reading about the various Italian duchies, foreign kingdoms, and papal states governing the Italian peninsula before Italy became a united nation in 1861. One of the pages is dog-eared, Bob's habit of marking his place in his books.

The page he had folded over forms a triangle that partially hides the writer’s description of General Giuseppe Garibaldi and his role in Italy’s ‘Risorgimento,’ - the movement that gave rise to the modern Italy we know (and love) today.

Bob admired the revolutionary Garibaldi, studied his life, his efforts and accomplishments in building Italian unity. Much like our own General Washington, Garibaldi’s name can be found on streets, squares and buildings in nearly every town and city throughout the country. It’s not a stretch to understand why he had an affinity with Garibaldi. Bob had a revolutionary spirit too.

Reading this book, this history of modern Italy, in our adopted city with its long history, reunites me with Bob. I riffle through the pages for folded triangles, looking for possible insights into why he marked a particular page. What paragraph or sentence had he wanted to save to return to at a later time? What is he telling me, teaching me?

Of course, there is no later for Bob. I have lived without him for two years now, but he is still with me, never far. And so are his books, waiting for me, with more dog-eared pages, and much more to discover about his interests in a world that always fascinated him.

I remember giving Bob bookmarks. Now I am forever grateful he never used them.