Death and Green beans

Nona at her 92nd birthday

My beautiful vibrant super-goddess of a great grandmother died yesterday. Her life force had seemed to dwindle a long time ago, and I know she was glad to go, so I'm not sad. In its own way it is tragic that there will be no more hilarious and accurate stories told at the dinner table on Thanksgiving and Christmas ("You're father," she shrugs at my grandmother, "Eh, he was okay. But Vincenzo!" Complete with Italian hand gestures and everything.), but the tragedy is my own, not hers. She was ready to shed the body that couldn't keep up with her anymore and move onto something new and free.

I would say that she'll come back as a crow. And I mean that in the nicest and most revered way. She's not cut out to be a human again quite yet, and crows are the smartest and most fantastic birds that exist. On the other hand, Nona was very wise and peaceful within herself, so maybe she's done this time around and got to go give her God a talkin' to about the state of things. I'm sure she'd be happy to give him a piece of her mind, she was never at a loss for opinion.

Death is a funny thing. So cyclic and natural and even soothing in some ways. The idea that it all comes back to home, it all comes back to a life force and that the vessel you travel in is just that. A vessel to carry your force.

So eat green beans with a pound of garlic and olive oil, walk barefoot, and drink red wine. Live to be 96 and vibrant.

Cheers, Nona.