Trees, travel and postcards
I liked to send you postcards. To make them. And to send you printed photographs as well.
I am glad a printed fraction of time can provide a glimpse of a presence.
I remember when I was a kid — probably around 8 or 9 years old — I happened to sit in a church for the funerals of an old lady.
This day, I did not cry. And I did not cry because when I was a kid, I thought it was normal to die when you get old enough.
Since then, I grew up and I must acknowledge I learned something valuable since. I learned it was normal to be sad. That it was normal to cry. And that it was normal to cry when you are sad.
Even when you are a boy.
Even when you are an adult.
Even when you are an adult boy.
Today I feel like a boy again.
Today we are in a church again.
And I am happy I am able to cry — this time.
You loved to receive postcards and photographs. You said it was a way for you to travel from your couch. You were delighted by my creativity. Ever since I was a kid.
This is what I would like us to remember. The trees and the green landscapes you liked to be surrounded by. The postcards you liked to receive.
I will continue to send you postcards.
Farewell grandma. I wish graves had a letterbox.