This story is also available in the following languages: Italian
I had full knowledge of the Grecian nature of my being on 12 January 2000, the date of my grandfather Sebastiano’s death. Until then, I only suspected a concealed, recondite, trampled-on diversity.
My grandfather died on a cold winter’s day, at six o’clock in the afternoon. I was sitting on the bed in my room and at a certain point I heard my grandmother screaming for help on the stairs from the second floor where we lived and we rushed down to the ground floor, my grandmother’s house. My mother was in front of me and I was behind her but one landing farther back…she entered along the narrow hall and when I heard a heart-rending cry I knew something terrible had happened. I didn’t imagine in the least that my grandfather could have died, even though he had been seriously ill for many years. My mind had discarded the idea of his possible death a priori.
I went into the room and tried desperately to talk to my grandfather who was on the bed in the throes of death. My mother was weeping and screaming, along with my grandmother and my aunt until he breathed his last. After exactly five minutes my grandmother’s house was filled with neighbours and relatives; the kitchen was full and my mother was screaming and crying. She was inconsolable, my aunt fainted, my grandmother sat dazed on a chair, she shed no tears, she was completely stupefied
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