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Love, Food and Family - Eulogy for Nonna

Nick Hills
Oct 5, 2015
3 min read

I wrote a story when I first began my journey in the United States, of the time when I had to say goodbye to my family:

“And lastly my precious Nonna, I couldn’t stand to watch as she erupted into tears, the cold, glassy drip down her matured face and the

small tremors that discharged from her arms, to mine. A peculiar form of guilt transcended upon me, that I could not shed a tear for my

Nonna. My nonna who changed my diapers, cared for me when I was sick and always gave priority to others rather than herself. It made

my heart race and my stomach churn, my biggest fear is that I may never see her again…it made it immeasurably hard to leave her.”

This fear stayed with me for a long while. It was only with time, and the maturity that comes with age that I became able to accept the death of my beloved Nonna. It came with the awareness of how lucky we all were to experience true kindness and selflessness. That in a world with so many complexities and unknowns, that we can find solace, no matter what, in the kindness of others. Nonna lived a joyful life, full of love for, and from her family and friends. Her life was simple, yet wholesome. I have always been able to find peace with this thought.

She had no greater joy than to see someone she loved. And, those of us privileged enough will never forget or cease to appreciate the disproportionate hospitality and benevolence that she endowed upon us. I knew the risk that she may pass whilst I was abroad, where I would not be able to say my goodbyes, and, share my grief and love with those closest to her. That my ‘peculiar form of guilt’ would overcome me. And, it is of a regret that I cannot be there on this day, a celebration of her life, and the harsh realization that a heavenly soul has be taken from us. She can now finally be at peace with her husband, Joe.

I know that Nonna would not be disappointed that I could not attend her funeral, she always wanted what was best for all of us. Always. No single moment stands out, but rather the accumulation of all her acts of kindness. She would walk from her house to mind me; or make my favourite pasta, gnocchi, whenever I came home from America, or pay me for trivial tasks and action, or the fact that you never have to ask her for something, because the answer is always yes. Her altruism extends beyond that of any person I have met before. The way her eyes always lit up when you came to visit, the countless kisses that you would receive before even stepping through the front door, the lengths of time spent together in comforting silence.

I may not have realized at the time, but in that same story I wrote in 2012, I had an intuitive perspective:

“I stared ambivalently into the back of the chair and wondered what lay ahead, I knew deep down that I had to be brave,

I had to be strong, that change can be good and at that moment I knew everything would be alright”. We all have to be brave and strong like my Nonna, when she journeyed on a boat from Italy to Australia during great second War of our world. When she left all of her behind. Where she hoped to find joy in a faraway land. Where she fell in love and raised a beautiful family. A kind, genuine, loving family. A family that she held dear and loved with all her heart. One she was proud of. It all began, unknowingly, on that hopeful journey. This is what we must all begin to realise, ‘that everything will be alright’, that death is just another part of her ‘journey’. One that we must all take. And, in light of the Death of Elizabetta Dalmazzone, we can only hope to learn from her, to try and take on, and incorporate those everyday acts of kindness into our own, as often as possible.

Our aim in life is to make the world more beautiful than it was when we came into it. Nonna made this true. She made our lives beautiful; we can all smile on the life she lived and that we were fortunate to share some part of it with her.