Actually: Elena is a mystery. The mystery of a being who appears to be nothing at all, but is—and is present—behind the wall of appearances. Elena, who lets anything be done to her and every so often "gives you a kick," even without reason, simply because at certain moments you block her Being. Elena, who almost never looks you in the eye; in fact she never looks at anything or anyone, yet she sees EVERYTHING. And she sees inside you. And she strips bare before everyone, and above all before yourself, all your pettiness, your poor humanity made of so much smoke and no substance, all surface fragility and nothing solid beneath.
Elena can physically break you in little time: you cannot win, you can only flee. If you accept the confrontation you have no respite until she lays bare your soul and you kneel before the Eternal and the Mystery, groaning: "Why?" And when the answer does not come and you would finally like to end it there and walk away, you discover yourself trapped in a deep, mutual, aching bond of love.
That deep, daily bond of love which her mother, Luisa Nardini, witnessed toward her Elena.
On May 9th, Luisa returned to the Father, leaving as her legacy her courageous—so very courageous—"always pressing forward" toward the summit that awaits us all, which she valiantly reached.
Francesca Poleggi, 2005
