For the last semester of my undergrad, I moved in with my 82-year-old Nonna for a little over a year. My Nonna’s name is Santa which means “saint” in Italian. I think this name could not fit her any better, she is a blessing to all who are lucky enough to meet her. My Nonna lives, and still does, in a retirement community in Arizona which is not the most exciting location for a college kid. I originally expected my lifestyle with my Nonna to be calm, but this idea was anything but her situation as she became more and more sick. I had no intentions of being a caretaker, or even staying in the retirement village for as long as I did. However, when it became evident to me that no one else was advocating for her daily, I had to fill the role. It was very difficult for me to adjust to this new way of life, but today I know exactly why I had to stay there. The anxious girl who stood on my Nonna’s doorstep with a suitcase in hand in May of 2022 transformed into a strong woman who was ready to leave for the real world and take on any situation that life could throw at her. With elderly populations being the loneliest demographic, I urge you to start talking, listening, and learning from the humans who have been here the longest. Here are the 5 main things that I learned after 1 year of living with my Italian Nonna.
1. Eat
Food is the first and last thing on my Nonna’s mind throughout the day. Like all Italian Nonna’s, food is gospel, and it must be worshiped day in and day out. Food is a language of love that brings us together, satisfies our needs, and helps us to grow. After coming out of a disorganized period in my life where routine ceased to exist, let alone a food schedule, I was initially agitated by her anxiety over meals. I was used to forgetting breakfast, then realizing I hadn’t eaten lunch by 3 p.m. Then finally by the time my body was fighting to function, I would grab something convenient or scrounge the kitchen for snacks. To my Nonna, this kind of diet was a serious crime against humanity.
My Nonna grew up in a small town called Gioiosa Marea in Sicily and, like most Italian-Americans, fled to the United States for a better life. She was 21 years old when she came to the United States with my Nonno. They and the rest of my family didn’t come to this country with anything except for an ambition for a better life and this was enough to guide them towards a better future for their families. But because this was the way my Nonna grew up, she continues to live life in survival mode where food and resources are extremely valuable to her. I didn’t grow up this way, I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago with two working-class parents who were still able to provide food, even if at some points it was boiled hot dogs and Kraft mac and cheese. My Nonna’s breakfast usually entails making a sandwich of whatever leftovers there were from the night before which I call the post-war breakfast special. Sometimes this was a taco, fish filet, or my very favorite to smell, fried liver at 8 a.m. It was at breakfast that we would plan what to cook for lunch and dinner.
What at first agitated me, started to heal me. I started to feel stronger, healthier, and more energized throughout the day. For the first 6 months after I moved, my Nonna was somewhat healthy. It was during these months that I started to master her craft as we would cook each meal together. I started to understand how food was a language of love and an art in itself. My Nonna has several fractured bones in her back that were not and could not be treated, so she was in immense pain all the time. Even so, she rebels against her walker and bounces around the kitchen using every surface as her lifeline. After some time of becoming her kitchen sidekick, I learned many of my Nonna’s recipes by heart.
After 6 good months, my Nonna started to have complications that would lead to us being in and out of the hospital until I left 8 months later. It was during this time that I found myself asking my Nonna “Did you eat?” “What can I make you?” or “Let me make this for you.” The final two months I was there, my Nonna was in the hospital the entire time. It was at this moment that I was being tested on everything I had learned in the kitchen with Nonna, and it was also a lonely time for me. While working full time and finishing my degree I had no time to make many friends in Arizona. I didn’t mind this because my Nonna became my best friend and I soon became very close with my other family members who lived nearby. With her being gone, the house felt especially empty and lacking its unique personality. I did my best to keep its liveliness by continuing to tend the garden and keep the house smelling like garlic and oil. 1 year prior, I would’ve neglected myself in this kind of situation by continuing to forget meals and eat out. This time, I was planning my meals each day and cooking from scratch.
Very soon, nothing brought me more joy than feeding the people around me. Seeing people excited to eat what I had created and enjoying it helped me to understand the pride and role of being a Nonna. In the moments that my Nonna was the most sick in the hospital, there was nothing I would want more in the world to see her eat. I know this is how she felt when I first arrived in Arizona, anxious and unhealthy. Something that my Nonna didn’t have to teach me was my immense compassion for humanity, but this had gotten lost after a rough period that many of us experienced during the pandemic. Through falling in love with cooking and eating, I realized my hunger was not just to feed others, but to feed their minds and hearts too.
2. Take Pride in Everything I Do
While the kitchen was where Nonna spent most of her day, the other parts of the day were occupied in the garden. But because my Nonna is not able to walk well on her own or without supervision, she would tell me what needed to be done. I grew up working alongside my hardworking father who embodied many of the same traits of my Nonna. So though I had no prior knowledge of gardening, I was able to apply skills I learned from my father to learn how to work in the garden easily. My Nonna’s garden is arguably one of the most elaborate in her retirement village. It would be a tough debate up against the other Italian relatives who lived in the neighborhood and took pride in their gardens as well, but I still believe that there is something very special about our garden. My late Nonno took so much pride in the garden which motivated me to upkeep it. He would always tell us, “You see this lemon? You can-no find-a this-a lemon in-a the store, they wish they could find this lemon.” Though the garden had downsized dramatically after the passing of my Nonno, the trees in the backyard were something to be very proud of.
I became particularly attached to and inspired by the fig trees. I soon understood the pride in gardening as well. I would get excited to wake up and pick fruit, make juice, and continue turning these vital gifts from the garden into even greater ones (like homemade granita). The garden became a home and somewhat of a dojo for me to spend my time in. I have always loved to work hands on and growing up the way I did, there was no better feeling than evaluating the work done outside for the day and being proud of it. By the time I left Arizona, I had more giant calluses on my hands from yard tools than I did as a powerlifter. The figs I was especially proud of them because it is hard to find fresh figs in the United States and I had them in my backyard. I could eat 10 figs in one sitting and not feel a single ounce of guilt. Others took interest in my newfound love for gardening and cooking while I consistently uploaded photos of the fruits of Nonna and I’s labor both in the kitchen and garden. I wanted others to get excited about the natural gifts of our earth and to understand the pride that comes with creating with the resources we already have. By the time I left Arizona, I started to trade figs for chicken eggs with a local mutual friend. I fell in love with this way of life.
Whenever I went to my Nonna’s house to visit growing up, she always had food on the table and presents of sweets for people to enjoy. I started to do this too, creating decorative plates of cookies or baked goods sprinkled with powdered sugar on top. I got into the habit of never going to meet a person without a food offering in hand. Though I was raised to be hardworking from a very young age, I was able to find a more genuine connection and inspiration through the work I was doing with my Nonna. In a society that is addicted to consumption, we forget that we as humans were designed to create. When we create, we return to ourselves and there is so much pride, inspiration, and love to foster from this practice. Creation doesn’t have to be your full-time job, but it definitely can be. Beyond the kitchen and garden, Nonna always urged me to be a strong, confident woman. She truly shaped my mindset to be proud of my family, work, culture, and faith. When I first came to Arizona, I was disconnected from all of these things and it turns out that was the root of all of my problems.
3. Strength can be a Weakness
I want to emphasize that my Nonna is the toughest woman I know. The amount of pain she endures and doesn’t show is often praised but it ultimately became her biggest downfall. The toughest part about living with my Nonna was watching her suffer from the moment she awoke to the moment she went to bed. I will never forget the sounds of pain that echoed through the small open home. My Nonna was conditioned to always put others before herself and so when she needed help without asking for it, she didn’t receive it. I believe her biggest fear was to be a burden to others, many of us live this way. I could not stand this, I knew that it was important to advocate for people even when they don’t want it because everyone deserves the best that life has to offer. And especially when it involves your family, this means at all costs.
For my last month of college, I spent a lot of time in the ER with my Nonna or taking care of her at home. I am very blessed to have never seen an ER waiting room before living with my Nonna because soon, the medical world became second nature. There was and still is nothing I wish more than for my Nonna to live a life without pain. I often did not pay attention to my medical needs before living with my Nonna. I put off doctor visits and when I had a problem I would wait for them to go away on their own. Through learning about her condition, I started to pay more attention to my body’s needs and how to take care of myself.
My Nonna bottles up many of her emotions because she never had the opportunity to express them which is one of the outdated norms of Sicilian culture. I learned that bottling emotions, trauma, and experiences creates worse medical problems. Gastrological issues are one of them. I learned that it is important when something bad happens or when I am feeling down to communicate it to someone I trust. When my anxiety was at its worst, I had the worst stomach problems as well. Strength does not equate to never having problems, we all have them. Trauma, stress, anxiety, and pain are universal experiences that are not excluded from any single human being. It is when we talk about these experiences that we realize how similar, or human, we all are. Just when I thought that I was the only person going through a hard time as a caretaker, I started to open up about my problems and I found that countless other people had shared similar experiences. Soon I did not feel alone in anything I had encountered. From bosses to family members and friends, I created an immense support system. Being vulnerable is the most courageous thing a person can do. Whether it is admitting your fault, telling your story, or sharing your bad day with someone, it sets the precedent that not being okay is still okay. Vulnerability is strength, and the more we open up to one another, the more peace we will find.
4. Tomorrow Does Not Exist
When my Nonno passed away, it was very difficult. He was the personality of the home and our family as a whole, much like a celebrity. While dissociating with tears in my eyes at his burial, my Zio (uncle) turned around, looked me in the eyes, and said, “Tomorrow does not exist, remember that.” This moment stuck with me forever but it never made sense until I lived in a retirement village. It seemed like every week or month someone passed away or had a serious medical problem. I had never paid attention to death more than at this time. As someone who was always impulsive, impatient, and eager to leave my current situation, I was forced to slow down to the retired way of living. Many of the people who died or had problems were not even as sick as my Nonna. Because of her condition and being the only person who lived with her, I was always on edge when a bad moment would come. I never knew when she would fall or end up in the hospital, but I knew it would inevitably happen. Coming home from anywhere gave me anxiety, I never knew what I might walk into or wake up to. But this also taught me to live life on an everyday basis. Once I entered the world of sickness, all of the problems that I thought I had became minor, normal occurrences in life. I was so angry at the world and myself for so long that I didn’t understand that every moment is precious. I shouldn’t have had to live this way to realize this aspect of life, but we get so caught up in the narratives spewed at us daily that it’s hard to remember how good life is, especially if you have your health.
I made every moment count with my Nonna. I included her in every aspect of my life from dating, work situations, and confiding in her my biggest traumas and fears. Many people seclude the elderly and ignorantly think that they are not worthy of being a part of normal life. This is also why the elderly population is the most lonely. I learned that there is something beautiful about cross-generational relationships. When I had a problem, my Nonna could offer me wise advice that no friend my age could ever think of. But more than that, I wanted my Nonna to feel a part of real life. To be sick and alone is an inhumane way to live, we are meant to be together. When my Nonna was in a rehabilitation center, she had a memory patient as a roommate who never had a family member show up during her entire month-long stay. No one to advocate for her needs, provide her comfort, or be her friend. I would do my best to visit my Nonna every day and on two different accounts, I saved her roommate, Melva, from dangerous situations. But what if I hadn’t been there? This would eat at me and keep me up at night.
I saw things that most young people don’t in those hospitals and I want everyone to understand that life does not need to be lived alone or in misery. Everyone deserves a friend, love, a home-cooked meal, clean clothes, and someone to advocate for them when they cannot for themselves. Tomorrow does not exist, therefore today is the best day to start working on your dream, telling people you love them, and discovering your true self. In the moments that my Nonna and I were laughing, we were never thinking about our difficult times, even if we were sitting in a hospital room. And in the moments when things were bad, we were never thinking about the little problems in our lives. Many already know this but need a reminder that life is never happening to you, it is always happening for you. I take immense comfort in knowing that nothing is permanent, meaning that neither the good nor the bad will last forever. For me, I believe this means that I am always where I am supposed to be, and always on my way to better.
5. How to Love
Not many people are lucky enough to have an Italian Nonna in their life. The relationship between a grandparent and grandchild is different than with a parent. I originally came to Arizona for reasons that very quickly served no purpose. They aren’t worth mentioning because, after one year, those problems became my solution. During the pandemic, I had disconnected from the things that meant the most to my true self.
A Nonna’s love is unconditional, and this is what I needed most. During the first 6 months, my Nonna listened to my rants and resentments. When you have been hurt badly in your life, it is hard to get over the fear that everyone is out to get you. I was resentful of the bad things that had happened in my life and I chose to make faith and family the culprit. My Nonna never gave in or agreed to these notions because she is wise enough to know that these were not valid concerns. Her constant positivity and ability to find the good in everyone became contagious. I started to understand my Nonna’s thought process by never taking anyone or anything too seriously. I soon realized the power of not engaging in negativity, it gave me so much freedom. The less pessimistic I became, the more I started to realize why people live their precious lives miserably. I started to take more accountability for my life through having important responsibilities because it was up to no one but myself and a higher power. I started to realize that my resentments were the only thing holding me back from living a peaceful life. I started to forgive myself and others the same way my Nonna does.
Through a certification program, I learned about the formative years and how we develop our sense of identity by age 12. I thought back to who I was at age 12. I found ease of anxiety through having faith, I took pride and comfort in my family, and I loved to write. I realized that my resentment toward religion had nothing to do with my relationship with faith, but everything to do with the same negativity that lies in every aspect of life whether it be religion, politics, or business. My Nonna is an immensely faithful woman. It is not unusual for her to have the Catholic cable station on during the day to pray the rosary and watch mass. I ignorantly used to laugh at this with resentment even though I knew that I used to take great comfort in my faith. But because I wanted nothing more than to see my Nonna happy, I would take her to church at any opportunity I got. Her devotion and connection with a higher power inspired me over time to reinstate mine.
I now realize that laughing at anyone’s approach to finding comfort, as long as they have good intentions, is the act of a miserable person. I laughed at religion and faith because I had no peace within myself. Whatever your practice is to find peace, whether in a religion, art, or nature, don’t let anyone take that from you. I now go to church not because I believe in a man in the sky with a great white beard or because I indulge in politics. I go to meditate and connect in a way that is true to my identity, tradition, and culture. I now approach faith in my own way, without outside opinion. This was a monumental shift for me because I now know how to think for myself, a true passage of liberation. I feel no need to convince anyone of anything and this made me a much more confident person. Through re-engaging with my roots, I started to love myself and the world around me in a different, and deeper way.
This is just one of the ways mentioned that my Nonna taught me to love. When my Nonna was in her worst condition, she didn’t want to bother anyone. She would say to not come to the hospital, or that she doesn’t need help, or ask if I had eaten enough. She would say these things even when she could barely speak, eat, or move herself. This is unconditional love, putting others before yourself at all costs. I never gave in to her averseness to attention, and instead, I would show her the same unconditional love that she truly deserves. Instead of having the normal senior year of college experience, I was dedicated to being the best support I could be to my Nonna. I don’t feel I missed out because I learned more from this experience than I could have ever learned in a classroom. By being the saint that she is, my Nonna taught me what love is and soon I wanted nothing more than to reunite with my family, the most important aspect of my life that I was neglecting. Like a tree, our roots are our identity. Without knowing them, you cannot know yourself and grow into your truest potential. Life is not perfect, bad things are going to happen. To live a life in resentment and negativity is no life at all. When I lost my faith and family, I lost myself and entered the worst years of my life. I owe it to my Nonna, my saint, for teaching me to love unconditionally and return to my roots so that I could become the woman I am today, the woman I was always meant to be.
As my Nonna always says, “piano, piano” (little by little).
