God has invited me to a party at his house...
Those are lyrics from my grandmother's favorite song. She passed away last week at the ripe age of 98 and I can remember her singing this song all the time. I went home this past weekend for the funeral and it was one of the most heartbreaking moments of my life. My father seemed to be taking it all in stride but that all changed at the funeral home, when I think it actually hit him that this was all actually happening. While I viewed the weekend as a celebration of her long and happy life, watching my Dad completely break down was extremely difficult and his tears were contagious. Her sister didn't make things any easier, because they were best friends who spoke daily. It reminded me of the relationship I have with Damaly and I know it's selfish, but I hope I'm the first to go out of my immediate family. I cannot even bear to think of my life without the people I love so it's either I go first, we all die together, or we somehow become immortal.
Nonetheless, the good memories I have of my grandmother mostly overpowered my feelings of sadness. I'm named after her and I feel she always liked me best. Don't get me wrong, she used to get me in a lot of trouble when I tried to keep things from my parents. But I will never forget tickling her or pulling down her skirt until she'd laugh so hard, I thought her dentures would fall out. I remember the way she smelled and the way she used to braid her hair. I will always have the scar on my leg from when she accidentally burned me with an iron. I remember giving her manicures and seeing her undergarments drying in the bathroom. I remember how she'd always shout into the phone when I called to speak to her even though speaking normally would've been alright. I remember her huge glasses that always reflected so much light and how sweet she was to me. I remember how when I went home from the holidays, I was crying so hard as my Dad fed her. She looked so thin and different from what I remembered and something told me the next time I'd see her, it would be to say goodbye. She may no longer be with us, but hopefully I inherited all of her good traits and the "living long" gene is an Auguste/Wagnac trait.
At times like these, it's very difficult to remain optimistic about living in the Netherlands. I know my parents would love to have me home. All their friends were telling me how much they missed me and doing their best to persuade me to come home, since my parents are too stubborn and believe strongly in our personal freedom, even if they don't approve. I really miss seeing them all the time. We stayed up on Sunday night, playing board games and talking and I haven't bonded and laughed with them the way we did in too long. My father makes the funniest comments and my mother cheats so much. I love them with all my heart and it is my every intention to be back on American soil as soon as possible. Even though I have no intention or desire to move back to Connecticut.
I'm so happy the month of January is almost over. As if my grandmother's death wasn't enough, my grandfather had a stroke and is in the hospital. He has a weak heart that beats irregularly so chances are he'll have to be moved into a nursing home where they can monitor him a lot more than we'd be able to. I hope he's able to recover fully and that the madication he's on works so we can rule out a nursing home and/or a pacemaker.
I'll be 25 next Thursday and I'm ok with it. I have a lot to be thankful for at this stage in life and I'm confident that things will only get better. We'll spend next weekend in Stockholm and it'll be fantastic to have some quality time with my Michelino, even though we'll be frozen popsicles. I'm really looking forward to it.
I'll leave you all with another excerpt from Don't Sweat The Small Stuff: Write a heartfelt letter every week
With everything going on recently, I realized that I haven't always taken the time to express my feelings to the people I'm grateful for and love. This is definitiely something I want to do because I think it's important to thank people for helping me get to where I am, for being there for me, for making me smile and even for loving me. First up, my favorite piece of mozzarella: Piero Pichelino.
