and it still goes on...

my mom's mom had her birthday today. she was so energetic and happy. 72. we ate well, had some cake and brandy, and played board games. and laughed so much that my belly started aching. she rushed home around ten...perhaps a date over the internet with a hot old fellow from god-knows-where? oh, that glitter in her eyes. she has a secret, i can tell. something that makes her shine and make her hugs last even longer.

my dad's mom passed away suddenly a week ago. or kind of suddenly. she's far older and not in such a good shape. but very lovable. full of secrets that instead of making her smile more, they weighed her down and made har hide her looks and pretty words. but she did know her time was coming. she had been so utterly supportive and said nice things and reminded us how she was proud of us four grand-children, how we were getting on nicely. something quite out of her character. not all things were told to her (a way of protecting is suppose), but she is right, we are mostly ok. :)

going through my dad's mom's belongings i learnt more about her, things she did not talk about. not secrets that much, but things that would make here seem proud if told by her. she had been the best student in her class, both in primary school and university. and got a medal from the president himself! when she retired they had to take three new people to continue her work. (that's where i've got my genes from (; ) and she had been the most beautiful girl in her village. oh, i've heard many family secrets through her sister, who has the ability to make even milking a cow sound fascinating. being an old secretary, my grandmother had all her papers in a really good order, so i was able to chronically follow bits of her old life. from school papers from 1929 to the postcards from last christmas. i'm glad she was my grandmother, even if she didn't let me (or anyone) very close.

i wish there were no more funerals in a loooong time. i'm only getting to know my other grandmother better now. or differently, from an adult's perspective. seeing her as a person, not only as a storyteller, as a fabric-artist, as a listener, fortune-teller, inquierer, mother of adult people. she is a quite complex personality, and through knowing her i understand a bit more of myself. history does repeat itself. sometimes quietly, sometimes it screams aloud the ever-spinning wheel of life. how unique we all are, but at the same time we are the same. connected to unseen threads that pull us where desired. how so much is in the genes and raising. we don't often see how we pass things to the next generations. even (and maybe most strongly) those things we wanted not to pass.

and it still goes on. life. death. sorrow. happiness. desire.