Trine Blogs: Float On

I’ve tried over and over to write this post. I always come up short. I don’t know what to say.

Grandma passed away a couple of weeks ago. Despite my family’s determined effort to be with her when she slipped away, she passed away peacefully in her sleep at 1 in the morning on a Friday. I just think grandma wanted to do it her own way. She’d settled everything else – which songs to sing at the church, the colour of her casket, which minister would be sending her off, where to have the “reception” (what do you call it?) afterwards, and what we’d eat. There was a lot of cake. And a lot of people.

The funeral was beautiful. As beautiful as those days can be, anyway. I wish my brother could have been there, but Thailand is far away. There were lots of people. Lots of flowers. Lots of sunlight. I had an ice cream at a gas station before we got to the chapel. No one told me grandma would be in there, with the lid off. I wasn’t prepared. I almost passed out, and I didn’t go in. For some it’s mandatory to see the deceased, and some may think I’ll regret not going in. I don’t. Whoever was in the casket in there, it wasn’t grandma. I don’t understand the need to see dead people. But people’s boats float differently. I’d rather remember her winks and tuneless whistling and her stories about how the animals got their colours. To each their own.

We were never close. At first I was sad, but then I realise that’s just how life played out, and the time I got with her was still special, if sparse. My cousin got more vacations at the farm than I (and my brother) did, because she’s almost 10 years older. And then we went to Africa and lost more years. And it’s been long that grandma gradually declined. Family is complicated. It’s funny that death reveals just how complicated. It’s stupid, really. All those secrets that everyone knows but no one ever talks about. Seriously, what a cooky family. But I like them all anyway, even if they don’t like each other.

Now I’m back in Holland. I’m behind on work, and I’m sick of my thesis. On the other hand I can’t wait to finish it so I can get on with my life. And then I get sick of thinking about what on earth I’m supposed to do after I graduate. Honestly, I plan on spending this summer travelling, getting tattooed, sitting in a lawn chair with a drink and spending time with the people I love the most. There are weddings, family parties, reunions with old friends, revisiting Scotland (where my own crazy exchange semester took place), promises of breath-taking scenery and good music. I want to go hiking, I want to eat, I want to try my hand at making lemon infused vodka, and maybe I’ll buy a bodhran; I’ve always wanted to play the drums.

Spring. And death. And possibilities. And Life. I don’t know. We all float on alright.