“Pronto,” my Nonno said, once he realized the person on the other end was from Italy. It was our relatives. I don’t know much Italian, but when I heard “morta”, I knew that it wasn’t good. His sister had died, at 92. It was a short phone call, just about 30 seconds. After he hung up, he said, “I always hear about them dying, but never I see. When my brother died in Africa, I no see. Now, is the same.” He knew she wasn’t feeling good, but this just stopped everything. Emmie didn’t understand it, and went back to watching her cartoons. Me dispiace, Nonno.

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