Stella had been disturbed by her mother’s behavior, had thought that manifestation of grief barbaric—inhuman. Now she understood. She wished she could shit out her own grief, pull it out by its roots. But she couldn’t—she wasn’t Assunta. All her life Stella had thought she was so strong, but now she learned that it was Assunta who had been the strong one—Assunta who had been truly in control of herself. Stella, meanwhile, had no means to excise her own demons.
