None of us said anything for a while. We all seemed to be lost in our own thoughts. After thirty minutes or so had gone by, Capo asked his grandfather something about the arbor. He didn’t answer.
At first, it seemed like he had gone to sleep. Capo sat up faster than I thought possible and shook him. “Papà!”
I sat up too, wondering why he wasn’t answering.
After a second, he answered, but his words made no sense. They were slurred, and his eyes looked drunk.
“Mariposa.” Capo jumped up from his spot, going toward the front of the villa. “Keeping talking to him!”
I took one knee in front ofNonno, holding his hand to my heart. “Nonno,” I said, trying to make my voice sound as calm as possible. If he was dying, I didn’t want him to feel chaos, to feel my fear, because I shook, my heart breaking. “Nonno, please don’t go. You have so much life left to live. You need to stay with us. Please. Don’t leave.” I kissed his hand, over and over.
He lifted his free hand and rested it on my head. His words were slurred, but I could make them out. “I have lived a long life. I have lived a full life.” He took a breath, and I could tell it was shallow. “I did not receive all that I asked for, but I received all that I ever needed. My last days have been filled with joy. I have retouched firsts. The first time I tasted air. The first time I felt the sun and the moon upon my face. The first time I fell in love. I have received all that I needed. My work here is done. My sacrifice was not in vain.”
I hadn’t realized that Capo had pulled me from his grandfather until I saw him from a distance, Uncle Tito sitting beside him, checking his pulse. Under the stars,Nonnolooked peaceful, content, like all of his wishes had come true. All of his needs had been met.
Nonno’s found peace was the opposite of the cries that met my ears when his daughters and the family crowded around, grieving for the man who had meant so much to so many.
* * *
I had experienceddeath in my life.
My parents.
Losing Capo the first time.
Jocelyn and Pops.
In some ways, I never truly grieved for my parents, or for Jocelyn and Pops. I didn’t have time to. After I was relocated from one home at five, and then the only home I could remember at ten, my entire life from that point forward was consumed by survival. I’d often think of them, but not for long. It hurt too much. And in order to keep breathing, I had to keep my head on straight.
So death was not unfamiliar to me, but still, I hadn’t experienced loss on this level—this close and old enough to know what the loss meant in the moment.
Everyone wore black to the funeral, and I’d never heard someone cry as loud as one ofNonno’s daughters when they closed his coffin. It made my knees go weak. Capo had to hold me up to keep me from falling over. It was the type of cry that everyone fears—the sob of a soul grieving for the one person who took half of her with him.
After the funeral, we returned to his grandfather’s villa. I tried to keep quiet, keep out of the way, and help as much as possible. My heart felt like it was bleeding, so I couldn’t even comprehend what the people closest to him felt. He was one of those souls that the world would never forget. His words had been burnt into paper. He’d be forever immortalized between the pages and in the hearts of all who loved him the most.
Unlike me, who, at one point, thought that I might be found in a New York dumpster. The only people to remember me would be Keely and her brothers. I hadn’t even made a mark on this world. Not even a paper cut. Another Sierra.
I sighed, my eyes scanning the crowd, looking for Capo. He had been slipping in and out of my vision all day. He’d check on me and then disappear.
“Rocco,” I said, touching his arm. He was finally alone, getting a drink. “Have you seen Capo?”
“In his grandfather’s office.”
I nodded and went looking for him. The door was slightly open, but no Capo. I stepped in, noticing that a few of his grandfather’s books had been taken out. Before he died, he had written a letter to each of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. He had written them poems and stories. When I got close enough to his desk, I noticed a book there, opened.
Mariposa,
The smallest creature can make the biggest impact. You have been seen and you are valued. Share this with the great-grandchildren I will not meet. This is for them as much as it is for you.
You have put down roots in my heart and taken shelter there for always.
Nonno
I took a seat and opened to the first page. It was an illustrated children’s book.
A black wolf with shocking blue eyes sat in a dark forest, a full moon hanging over his head. He was a lone wolf, no pack to lead, because he demanded to be the alpha. Then a dull brown caterpillar came to the wolf on page three. The caterpillar told the wolf that the reason he’s so lonely is because he lost something that had once belonged to him. Or maybe it had been stolen.
“Who would dare steal from me?”the wolf snarled at her.“Tell me what I have lost so I can find it again and call it mine.”
