I should've posted this on Saturday. We came back from Kangos on Saturday, and at that time I was in the perfect mood for writing a summary of all events passed, I was both inspired and happy and I could recall everything clearly - but I was also pretty tired, so I spent the remainder of that day catching up with anime and then - catching up on sleep, I think I had around 11 hours in that gap between the weekend daze. Sunday was devoted to studies. Yesterday was devoted to stalling. So today, here's a quick flashback into the events of the week passed. Or rather the one big event: the funeral.
On Thursday we flew up North, to Kangos, to attend this event. I'd been pretty nervous at the start of the week but once we were soaring through the air, skies ablaze with life and light, a cup of steaming 'special blend Ceylon designed specifically for flight' (or so they say on the mug they serve in) tea, on the draw-out table in front of me... life felt great. It really is while traveling that I feel most alive, but the time before each flight is a plight of sore stress and a tad bit bad appetite.
After picking up our bags and spending a few minutes trying to understand the super-modern rental car (since when did they stop using keys? since when did they make the hand-brake automatic? since when is reverse on the left-hand side of the gearbox?) we drove to Kangos, stopped by the shop to buy a batch of bottles and with the darkness slowly descending upon us we made our way to the house. Grandma's house.
The upstair-rooms were all booked, so I slept in the living room, in the same bed Grandma had been sleeping in just recently. I thought that might be a bit unsettling, but it was OK, I slept soundly. The clock (it's a large wooden wind-up grandfather clock) stopped just before I went to sleep too, so that made things easier. Usually it chimes once every half hour and as many times as it takes for full hours. I can't imagine how she could sleep with that musical menace nearby, but I guess you get used to anything with time (pun-ch line).
When we arrived only my mother's sister/husband were there, but soon the rest of the relatives arrived. She and mother cooked up batches of food and we took turns sitting down to eat. It's a rather small kitchen, but for the occasion at least twenty of us were huddled up in this space. Took a while to gain appetite, but it was fun meeting everyone again. A few of the crew stayed at the village inn, a few with another relative in the village, and the rest upstairs and in a guest house outside. Night came, we went to sleep, woke up, took showers, forced a minimal breakfast and headed off to church.
I was one of the pallbearers, along with my dad/brother and three others, so we arrived earlier than the rest, carried the casket into a car with a designated set of shiny white gloves, drove to the church and carried the casket inside. The sky was clear blue, the air was cool and the sun was blazing: beautiful weather. Thanks to a lack of morning edibles my stomach started rumbling a bit in church, but at least my nose wasn't running like crazy. Like last time. I had stacked up on handkerchiefs this time around but I didn't need one even once. The priest said a few words, relatives sang songs, we all sat on our benches and either sung or looked at the floor, and when the dirt had finally been strewn on the casket we stood up, carried the coffin back to the car and drove off to the graveyard.
Me and David (my brother) were first in line behind the car on the parade to the grave, where we roped her down and threw red roses in the dirt. And that was it. That was the end of the funeral, we went back to a community hall by the church and ate smörgåstårta, headed back to the house, headed to the town inn for dinner (salmon, potato gratin, salad and rhubarb pie with a cup of tea) and took a walk home at the end of the day.
It was good. The weather was perfect. Nobody slipped up. The food was good. We felt peaceful. At least I did, I can't speak for anyone else, but it felt like... closure. It felt good. It felt like Grandma would've been happy with the occasion, and I hope she was. I hope she was sitting on a cloud looking down at us, pondering our mortal grief. Me and my brother took a morning walk to the cottage (or as close to it as we could get - we followed snowmobile trails atop a meter of powder snow) the next day, we all packed our bags and after a hasty lunch headed back South again, and at the end of Saturday... here I was.
I had time to play plenty of card games with cousin Frasse during our visit too, and introduce him to some new music, and get introduced to some new music myself (note to self - need to check up Hollywood Undead... and those other two artist I forget the names of), spend time with my brother (and all the others, of course) and even take it easy and just... not do anything. It was a good visit. I don't usually write these entries in diary form like this, but this week was special, it marks the end of an era; a start of another one.
I remember something my cousin Mats was speaking about at the funeral: how Grandma was like the gathering place for all of us. It was through her that we met up with each other and kept in touch with all branches of the family. I wonder how things will turn out now; how different everything will be. Someone'll inherit the house. And that someone has a large responsibility. Nobody actually needs the house, but the house is... memories, and it's what groups us together. Even with grandma gone, the house is there, the house that grandpa built. I hope things won't change too much. I hope we can still visit Kangos every summer; stop by the house on our way to the cottage, maybe sit down and have a chat with whomever is there. We could all help out with repairs, keep it like a family hotel... if nobody decides to move there and live there. I hope the family doesn't start fighting over who gets what. I hope nobody decides to take all the old furniture (cause nobody really needs it) or throw out any of the old decor, the paper paintings, the blocky TVs, or change the floor paneling to something modern. I hope it stays as it is forever.
I am a bit nostalgic, yeah... I know!
Well apart from the funeral, the week started with 6 movie reviews and a couple of other posts. I tried being effective on studies before I left but couldn't concentrate and had to get stuff done on Sunday anyway. Also wrote a story for what was planned to be a partially-year-consuming project, but that never really made it. My plans were foiled, for the first time... ever? I think I used that disappointment to my advantage though, fuel for further advancement; food for thought. It'd been a both inspiring and educating week, and tiring, and happy, and sad. Maybe for the last time on this blog: RIP Grandma.
Last week.