My aunt died in Rome this morning. My father's sister was a career nun. She was uber-educated and has been a champion of education in both Italy and Venezuela where she spent years setting up schools. I met her at least three times. Each time I spent a couple of months in the convent learning how to sew and embroider, and all the other domestic skills my father felt were important for my formation so that I would be a good wife some day. That, coupled with the fact that it was cheap daycare for a pre-teen while he checked out the singles' scene in Pescara, Capri, Milan....


In 1942, at the young age of 16 she heard a calling and left her parents' house to enter the convent. She never looked back.

I know there a people who were close to her. They will grieve her passing.

Last year she telephoned me a couple of times to wish us congratulations on the birth of our daughter. Up to my elbows in diapers, I never made it to the phone in time before it went to voicemail. Both messages were pretty much the same. A cold, irate woman saying how she has called numerous times and can never get through to congratulate us on the birth of our child. Why she didn't just send me a fucking email made no sense to me.

I bet I'm going to have at least one episode when I've forgotten that she's gone.

Right now, I'm feeling really sad about her passing. I would have liked to have seen her again.

This afternoon I saw a quick flash of black gabardine adorned with black rosary beads in my peripheral vision while I was playing with my little ones. It was nice of her to drop by.

Incidentally, I have no issues with otherworldly pop-ins, someone dropping in to award me an obscene amount of money, and my father-in-law stopping by without notice. No other exceptions. Ever.