Nando's Dad

I was awakened, this morning, by the sound of Nando entering the house. By the time I threw something on, he'd gone into his room. I debated with myself whether to knock on his door, but decided not to. After a quick visit to the loo, I was brushing my teeth, when I heard him go downstairs and into the kitchen. I quickly followed, intending to welcome him home. I also wanted to find out how his father was. Nando's trip had been prompted by his father suffering a sudden heart attack. As I entered the kitchen, Nando was putting food away. Whenever he goes to Italy, his Mama always sends food back with him. I immediately asked him what happened. In response, he twirled his finger in the air, exactly like the international aviation hand signal for "start engine." Confused by this, I said, "what?" Nando then verbally informed me that his father had died. I expressed my condolences and asked when he'd died. Nando told me that his father had died a week ago. I was disappointed about this outcome. Not only because I hadn't gotten to meet Nando Papa yet, but because I don't do death well. I never feel like I have anything worthwhile to say when someone I know loses someone to death. Nando gave me the details. I think he will be okay, as after we got off the death topic, he managed to make a joke and smile. Okay, enough about this now, as I don't like to get too heavy on my blog. As you raise a glass for St. Patrick's Day, perhaps you could raise one round to Nando's dad.