This year we've started off running. Christmas was great. Relaxing. Way too much food but that's allowed during the Holidays.
During Christmas my grandmother's condition went from bad to worse. She's been in what we call the Old People's Home, for years. It's practically our next door neighbour and we visited several times during Christmas.
I went back to Bergen on Sunday 6th. I went to the introductory meetings for my courses and managed to sign up for everything. My grandmother died that day, Tuesday the 8th. My brother and I came home this Thursday, the funeral will be on the 15th.
My grandfather passed away in June 2006, and my grandmother has been getting worse ever since. Last autumn my mum called, fearing she wouldn't survive the next couple of weeks.
They'd found a tumor in her liver but, as it turned out, what made her ill was withdrawl symptoms from not smoking. She usually smoked like a chimney and when in hospital she wasn't allowed to. As soon as she got her tobacco back, she recovered quite quickly.
I thought about staying home a few days longer when I left after Christmas, but I thought she'd hang in longer. I don't know why, I just had that feeling. She was in her bed, barely conscious. She was scared of dying, constantly calling out if she couldn't hear people talking. My dad and my aunt spent the last few days and nights sitting with her. She'd been calling for her Mum and Dad, for her son and daughter.
I remember my grandfather's funeral. All us grandchildren, 8 of us, were handed a rose to place on the coffin. I was standing next to my sister, we were holding hands. I think not having given myself the chance to grieve before, it all hit me right then.
What was sadder still was my grandmother. She was already a bit 'lost' and not quite realizing what was going on. But as the coffin was standing there on the grass outside the church, ready to be lowered into the ground, she reached out. She was in her wheelchair next to the coffin, and reached out to my grandfather and whispered to him.
She kept whispering, as if he could hear her. As if she almost knew what was going on, but not quite. Like a child whispering to its doll or pet, telling them her secrets. They'd been together for more than half a century, they had two children and eight grandchildren.
Unlike my grandfather, my grandmother got to experience being a great grandparent when a little girl was born this spring. I don't think she ever knew it.
My grandmother was 84 years old when she passed away. She was old and sick but had people around who cared about her. She had children and grandchildren, and we would all be lucky if we have all that when our life comes to its end.
As for me, I have no more grandparents. One generation has passed away, as a new one is beginning. I always thought some day I'd sit down and ask them about the old days, but suddenly it was too late. I'll never have that chance back. I've learnt my lesson.
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandparents. Show all posts
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Grandfather's funeral
The funeral was today. We've buried my grandfather and it was all rather sad.
I always put on a brave face and try to be strong so others don't have to, I have yet to cry or even be sad because of my grandfather's passing. Now it's over, it's all over and people will be strong again.
That probably means I can finally let myself feel something, and let out some of what I've got bottled up inside since we put my grandfather in a box and lowered him into the ground.
So now if you'll excuse me I'll go curl up into a ball and cry my eyes out. When I let my guard down, there's no turning back.
I always put on a brave face and try to be strong so others don't have to, I have yet to cry or even be sad because of my grandfather's passing. Now it's over, it's all over and people will be strong again.
That probably means I can finally let myself feel something, and let out some of what I've got bottled up inside since we put my grandfather in a box and lowered him into the ground.
So now if you'll excuse me I'll go curl up into a ball and cry my eyes out. When I let my guard down, there's no turning back.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Grandfather
I was planning on writing how I'd walked back from one of my exams today, they have most of the exams a bit outside the city and it took about an hour and a half to get back here. I really have to start bringing my camera when I go out – the view was amazing from up there. I walked and walked until «wait a minute... I've been here before...» and realized I'd been walking in circles.
That's when my mum sent me a text message saying «Hey. Call home when your exam is over.» So many things were wrong with that message, knowing the way my mum writes and the fact that she was supposed to be at work at the time. I felt something was very wrong, as I have the two times I've had grandparents pass away.
My grandfather died this morning. He's been... gone... for a while, no one could really understand what he was saying and he couldn't walk or do anything by himself. He'd been getting worse lately and although we didn't expect it, it wasn't exactly a shock.
I can't... feel sad that he's gone. Not yet. I felt we'd lost him already. Now it's just thinking back and knowing we'll never see him again, that a long life is over. It's not that he won't be around, it's that he won't be alive, that he won't get to experience anything more.
I only saw him and my grandmother three times a year, when I went home for summer, Christmas and Easter. I guess now is the time to start regretting I didn't visit them more when I was there. I spent a lot of time with them when I was a kid.. that was a long time ago.
From what I'm told he got worse very fast after Easter, I don't know what was wrong, I don't know if anyone did, he was just... old, and didn't make much sense anymore. I wonder what it was like for him. What living and dying was like.
I was planning on staying in the city a couple weeks longer but now it looks like I'll be headed home in a few days.
I hope my grandpa's resting now...
That's when my mum sent me a text message saying «Hey. Call home when your exam is over.» So many things were wrong with that message, knowing the way my mum writes and the fact that she was supposed to be at work at the time. I felt something was very wrong, as I have the two times I've had grandparents pass away.
My grandfather died this morning. He's been... gone... for a while, no one could really understand what he was saying and he couldn't walk or do anything by himself. He'd been getting worse lately and although we didn't expect it, it wasn't exactly a shock.
I can't... feel sad that he's gone. Not yet. I felt we'd lost him already. Now it's just thinking back and knowing we'll never see him again, that a long life is over. It's not that he won't be around, it's that he won't be alive, that he won't get to experience anything more.
I only saw him and my grandmother three times a year, when I went home for summer, Christmas and Easter. I guess now is the time to start regretting I didn't visit them more when I was there. I spent a lot of time with them when I was a kid.. that was a long time ago.
From what I'm told he got worse very fast after Easter, I don't know what was wrong, I don't know if anyone did, he was just... old, and didn't make much sense anymore. I wonder what it was like for him. What living and dying was like.
I was planning on staying in the city a couple weeks longer but now it looks like I'll be headed home in a few days.
I hope my grandpa's resting now...
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Those who die...
I went to the bank today to ask whether my new Visa card will be sent here or to Bergen. A few hours later, while coming out of the shower, I thought of the guy at the bank who died a few years ago.
I have been to four funerals.
When I was 10 my grandmother died of a heart attack. We went up north to the island during Easter to be there for the funeral. I don't remember much, other than we were sitting far back in the church and one of my cousins put a rose on the casket when they had lowered it into the ground. A week earlier, when my mother answered the phone, I knew what had happened before anyone told me. It was the first time someone I knew had died.
When I was about 13 our next door neighbour died. He was this friendly guy who liked his boat, used to be a sailor and had dark green tattoos on his arms. His wife and he had four kids, all grown up. He died while being out on the lake with his boat, the autopsy showed he most likely suffered a heart attack or something similar, feel overboard and wasn't able to get up. His boat was going in circles on the lake, someone got worried and went out to check. Someone told me people were gathered by the lake looking at the boat and it might be our neighbour's. Bad feeling.
When I was 15 the father of a friend of mine died. He had a drinking problem, his wife and two dauthers had moved out. All the girls in my class had been asked to sing in a teacher's daughter's wedding and we were all gathered at the church to rehearse early in the morning. My friend wasn't there, we all knew her father was in the hospital. Someone must have known he died that night, but no one said it. We all felt it. He died from a heart attack and was found by his wife. She'd been calling him but didn't get an answer, got worried and drove over. She found him next to the phone.
In 2001, when I was 16, my grandfather died. We went to the island and said our goodbyes, sitting on the very first row in the church. I told my mum when we got there "we're not sitting in the back", remembering my grandmother's funeral. "No" said my mother, "we're not." He died from a heart attack after being in hospital a few times. He loved travelling and sent all his (at the time) 17 grandchildren t-shirts every time he went somewhere. I didn't hear the phone ring that time, like I did when my grandmother died. My mum came to my room, knocked on my door, and I knew before I opened it. I was angry. I always get angry when I'm sad, and sad when I'm angry. I went for a walk in the freezing February air. Tears turned to ice if they weren't so warm. From one heart to another.
I was thinking about the guy in the bank. I only go to the bank once or twice a year, never really need to go there when I have my Visa card and can log onto my accounts on the net. I guess that's why it always seems like I just saw him the last time I was there. I think it's been two years since he died, walking home with some people, he fell off an old bridge. I didn't think of it when I was there, at the bank, but I always think about it afterwards. There's a guy that kinda looks like him, earlier I used to think they were the same person. But it's never him, and that's strange.
Maybe it's like that with people you just talk to when you need something, you don't know them you just know who they are and they know who you are. You don't notice when they die. When I was in France, one evening when my mum called, she said this woman had died from breast cancer. She was my mother's friend, my sister's nanny when she was a baby, my brother's friend's mother, our neighbours's grandmother. It was sad and for some reason it just got to me. When I got home I thought I saw her on the street several times but of course I never did.
When I was a kid, there was this man all the kids were scared of. Not really scared just... well, however kids get when others tell stories about people. He didn't have a job, just walked around, drinking a bit more than he should. My friend once told me he was so tall, he could see over the electricity lines(?) and could see us all the time. I didn't believe her but we were so young our own stories would scare us. He was hit by a car one night, standing in the middle of the road in total darkness.
People die. Sometimes it affects us more than we'd like to admit, other times we don't feel much and think we're strange for not feeling more. Like with the guy at the bank. He was a nice guy. He had glasses and a mustache and probable knew the name and account number of ever person in town. The kinda guy everybody liked. I only remember he's gone whenever I go to the bank. And it surprises me every time.
It's people like that who will live forever in the hearts of others. It doesn't take much. Just a friendly smile and a good heart. It's sad though... When I think of people like him, I wonder what comes after this. After life. If anything at all. It just seems so pointless sometimes, why do people have to die for no reason at all? I used to think that there's a reason, if someone dies it was meant that way. But if it happens to someone close to you, you can never believe that. I still want to believe there's a reason for everything, but I can't believe in something just because I want to. Just because it makes it easier.
Some say death is a part of life. Some say we have to accept it, saying it's the ultimate sacrifice someone makes because they want to make the world a better place. Some just die because... because it was an accident? People kill people. We'll all die some day. All we can do is hope we'll still be around for a while. And that our loved ones will be here with us.
Life is life.
What is death?
I have been to four funerals.
When I was 10 my grandmother died of a heart attack. We went up north to the island during Easter to be there for the funeral. I don't remember much, other than we were sitting far back in the church and one of my cousins put a rose on the casket when they had lowered it into the ground. A week earlier, when my mother answered the phone, I knew what had happened before anyone told me. It was the first time someone I knew had died.
When I was about 13 our next door neighbour died. He was this friendly guy who liked his boat, used to be a sailor and had dark green tattoos on his arms. His wife and he had four kids, all grown up. He died while being out on the lake with his boat, the autopsy showed he most likely suffered a heart attack or something similar, feel overboard and wasn't able to get up. His boat was going in circles on the lake, someone got worried and went out to check. Someone told me people were gathered by the lake looking at the boat and it might be our neighbour's. Bad feeling.
When I was 15 the father of a friend of mine died. He had a drinking problem, his wife and two dauthers had moved out. All the girls in my class had been asked to sing in a teacher's daughter's wedding and we were all gathered at the church to rehearse early in the morning. My friend wasn't there, we all knew her father was in the hospital. Someone must have known he died that night, but no one said it. We all felt it. He died from a heart attack and was found by his wife. She'd been calling him but didn't get an answer, got worried and drove over. She found him next to the phone.
In 2001, when I was 16, my grandfather died. We went to the island and said our goodbyes, sitting on the very first row in the church. I told my mum when we got there "we're not sitting in the back", remembering my grandmother's funeral. "No" said my mother, "we're not." He died from a heart attack after being in hospital a few times. He loved travelling and sent all his (at the time) 17 grandchildren t-shirts every time he went somewhere. I didn't hear the phone ring that time, like I did when my grandmother died. My mum came to my room, knocked on my door, and I knew before I opened it. I was angry. I always get angry when I'm sad, and sad when I'm angry. I went for a walk in the freezing February air. Tears turned to ice if they weren't so warm. From one heart to another.
I was thinking about the guy in the bank. I only go to the bank once or twice a year, never really need to go there when I have my Visa card and can log onto my accounts on the net. I guess that's why it always seems like I just saw him the last time I was there. I think it's been two years since he died, walking home with some people, he fell off an old bridge. I didn't think of it when I was there, at the bank, but I always think about it afterwards. There's a guy that kinda looks like him, earlier I used to think they were the same person. But it's never him, and that's strange.
Maybe it's like that with people you just talk to when you need something, you don't know them you just know who they are and they know who you are. You don't notice when they die. When I was in France, one evening when my mum called, she said this woman had died from breast cancer. She was my mother's friend, my sister's nanny when she was a baby, my brother's friend's mother, our neighbours's grandmother. It was sad and for some reason it just got to me. When I got home I thought I saw her on the street several times but of course I never did.
When I was a kid, there was this man all the kids were scared of. Not really scared just... well, however kids get when others tell stories about people. He didn't have a job, just walked around, drinking a bit more than he should. My friend once told me he was so tall, he could see over the electricity lines(?) and could see us all the time. I didn't believe her but we were so young our own stories would scare us. He was hit by a car one night, standing in the middle of the road in total darkness.
People die. Sometimes it affects us more than we'd like to admit, other times we don't feel much and think we're strange for not feeling more. Like with the guy at the bank. He was a nice guy. He had glasses and a mustache and probable knew the name and account number of ever person in town. The kinda guy everybody liked. I only remember he's gone whenever I go to the bank. And it surprises me every time.
It's people like that who will live forever in the hearts of others. It doesn't take much. Just a friendly smile and a good heart. It's sad though... When I think of people like him, I wonder what comes after this. After life. If anything at all. It just seems so pointless sometimes, why do people have to die for no reason at all? I used to think that there's a reason, if someone dies it was meant that way. But if it happens to someone close to you, you can never believe that. I still want to believe there's a reason for everything, but I can't believe in something just because I want to. Just because it makes it easier.
Some say death is a part of life. Some say we have to accept it, saying it's the ultimate sacrifice someone makes because they want to make the world a better place. Some just die because... because it was an accident? People kill people. We'll all die some day. All we can do is hope we'll still be around for a while. And that our loved ones will be here with us.
Life is life.
What is death?
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Happy days.
My neighbour here in our beautiful students apartment building has one of those electric wheelchairs. He and his friend (in a ordinary wheelchair) were at the shop at the same time as me today. They went out just before me and I saw them leave. The guy in the electric wheelchair (not sure if that's the right term..) was going first, and the other guy was holding onto the side and they where rattling along. Well, speeding along maybe, one guy pulling the other along, laughing as they went, avoiding cars and ice left from the snow and rain before the weekend.
It made me think about my uncle, he's been in a wheelchair since he was big enough to fit in one. He's one of my mother's brothers, the youngest of 10 siblings. Haven't seen him for at least a year and a half - he lives far away, up north, not on the island where he grew up but in the city on the mainland, a ferry ride away. I've got two other aunts and one more uncle in that city - only one of each (and their families) left on the island itself now.
My uncle's is... I don't know the politically correct term in English.. is mentally retarded still ok? He funtions as well as a six year old, most of the time anyway. Quite a temper but a nice guy. Always wants a hug.. I even seem to remember sitting on his lap when I was little, but that could just be something I wish I remembered. When we were on the island with my grandparents during summer we (my cousins, their friend Jim, my brother and I) used to play with my uncle's old wheelchair, it was in the garage (big garage, one car, lots and lots of fishing equipment) and we'd take it out on the road (no such thing as asphalt(?) anywhere near there) or the lawn, pushing each other around. Or if my uncle was out using his electric chair, we'd play with it after he'd gone back inside or moved to his regular wheelchair.
Then we'd go see the pigs or the cows or the hens laying eggs, the cat, the dog, go up to the barn or down to the sea, picking shells or going out in the boat to fish. Every time we came back from fishing my grandmother would have made cocoa and we'd have supper. The next day everybody (aunts, uncle, cousins, anyone who happened to be there) would come for dinner and we'd have lots of fish and vegetables, sitting by the long dinner table in the living room. My uncle would sit at the end of the table, my grandparents next to him. My parents, my brother and I (and my sister when she was born) would sit squeezed up against the wall on the other side on soft green chairs.
Today was four years since my grandfather's funeral. My grandmother died six years before him, almost ten years ago. I miss them.. Summer for me will always be summer on the island.
Happy days.
It made me think about my uncle, he's been in a wheelchair since he was big enough to fit in one. He's one of my mother's brothers, the youngest of 10 siblings. Haven't seen him for at least a year and a half - he lives far away, up north, not on the island where he grew up but in the city on the mainland, a ferry ride away. I've got two other aunts and one more uncle in that city - only one of each (and their families) left on the island itself now.
My uncle's is... I don't know the politically correct term in English.. is mentally retarded still ok? He funtions as well as a six year old, most of the time anyway. Quite a temper but a nice guy. Always wants a hug.. I even seem to remember sitting on his lap when I was little, but that could just be something I wish I remembered. When we were on the island with my grandparents during summer we (my cousins, their friend Jim, my brother and I) used to play with my uncle's old wheelchair, it was in the garage (big garage, one car, lots and lots of fishing equipment) and we'd take it out on the road (no such thing as asphalt(?) anywhere near there) or the lawn, pushing each other around. Or if my uncle was out using his electric chair, we'd play with it after he'd gone back inside or moved to his regular wheelchair.
Then we'd go see the pigs or the cows or the hens laying eggs, the cat, the dog, go up to the barn or down to the sea, picking shells or going out in the boat to fish. Every time we came back from fishing my grandmother would have made cocoa and we'd have supper. The next day everybody (aunts, uncle, cousins, anyone who happened to be there) would come for dinner and we'd have lots of fish and vegetables, sitting by the long dinner table in the living room. My uncle would sit at the end of the table, my grandparents next to him. My parents, my brother and I (and my sister when she was born) would sit squeezed up against the wall on the other side on soft green chairs.
Today was four years since my grandfather's funeral. My grandmother died six years before him, almost ten years ago. I miss them.. Summer for me will always be summer on the island.
Happy days.
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