is there such a thing...

as being too considerate?

several years ago, my Nonna had a stroke early in the morning. Mum ran into my room while it was still dark, pulling on her coat, explaining in a flurry that her mum had haemorrhagged in her brain, giving me details of exactly where the blood clots were and what state she was currently in. She sped off with Dad.

For the first time in my life I reread over my uni lectures and notes. I knew I knew, but I just had to be more than sure. I sat on the green leather couch in the family room, by myself in silence while my brother and sister slept, and I resigned myself to the fact that Nonna was going to pass away within the next 48 hours.

I sat on the couch and waited until it got to 9am. I called work and told them I wouldn't be there for a fortnight. Before I began speaking, I specifically asked to speak to a certain supervisor that I knew would be level headed and matter of fact and not feel bad for what I was telling her.

I then called Liza, my best friend. I explained what had happened, I asked her to not contact me at all for the next three days, and also asked her to contact the rest of my friends and tell them about Nonna and for them to not send me condolences. I told her I would tell her when the rosary and funeral would be. I purposely kept the call short and I cut her off so as not to leave her hanging in the air in awkward silence with me, the lunatic who was prematurely grieving. I felt guilty for putting her in that situation.

I then called my closest uni friend and told her where the blood clots were and her symptoms. She was studying linguistics with me, and our current topic was the brain and stroke victims, and various results from clots in different areas. She knew, without me saying it, that she was going to pass away. I asked her to tell my close uni friends and not contact me. Again, I didn't give her much room to talk, and I got off the phone.

2 days later she passed away.

I called my friends and told them of the rosary date and time. I thanked them for not contacting me and asked them to continue to do so. I apologised to them, for what I'm not certain, and told them that they didn't have to say anything. I felt relieved that all my friends, who usually contacted me on a very regular, sometimes hourly, basis, would know that I wasn't ignoring them and that my phone was off for a reason. i loathed the idea that someone would think there was something else wrong. i found a tiny peace in knowing that they all knew what was going on with me, and that no one was wondering why i dropped off the face of the earth temporarily.

I remember lying in the spare bedroom at Nonna's house with my cousins, while visitors drifted in and out giving condolences, for hours upon end. All the adults sat in Nonna's lounge room, and us kids all lay in the bedroom, sometimes sleeping, sometimes awake, sometimes at a horrible inbetween moment of sleep and nightmares. we stayed there for days, talking, not to anyone in particular, just voicing the thoughts in our heads. at one point i remember all 7 of us laying on one another in some way, like when you play pick up sticks on carpet. i think perhaps we found comfort from touching one another, even if it was just a foot resting on another's foot. we would pass around one of Nonna's cardigans, inhaling it deeply and weeping silently, that smell of borro talco and nivea that i still sometimes wake up dreaming that i can smell that perfect combination.

i remember that my cousins, after the first day, began bitching fervently about their friends and work. they started, and couldn't stop, getting angry at stupid things that people around them were saying as their condolences. I recall listening, and giving my thoughts, but not having any examples to give of my own. their friends were sending them smses, and they were angry that they didn't have the balls to call. they were calling them, and they were pissed that they had the audacity to call when clearly this was family time. their friends sent them flowers - they were furious because the flowers were bright, not morose, and they clearly weren't thinking when they chose the bouquet.

i wasn't angry with my friends. they hadn't done a thing wrong because i hadn't given them the slightest chance to. the thought of them losing face with me was more important to me than losing control of myself; the thought of them accidentally saying the wrong words to me during that time was just so wrong to me and I did everything in my power to stop my friends from feeling at a loss of what to do or say.

i'm not sure where this post is going. i think it's been triggered by the way i react when someone tells me news that i regret how i've immediately reacted to it. honestly, as my mouth isn't attached to my brain, i wish that people around me would shield me from myself.

RIP Caterina Sabatino - I miss you ever so much, and I love you with all my heart. I hope I dream about you tonight Nonna. although, if you do go into anyone's dreams tonight, let them be Uncle Dom's, and in the dream tell him to put a bit more salt in his taralle so they taste more like yours when i dip them in wine! i love you i love you i love you xxx