Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.) (lantichristo) wrote,
Alexandra Norrskèn (N.S.)
lantichristo

A death in the family ...

A death in the family is always sad but this one comes with a little sad story.

Two days ago, I was here with my mom, cooking and joking around when the phone rung and it was my sister telling me that my mother’s brother died.

I hung up the phone and my heart broke.

I had no idea how to say this. She knew something was wrong. I hold her hand and told her uncle Andreas is dead.

It is tragic, not only because the man died but this hole story with my mother’s family is tragic. My uncle Andreas and my uncle Michael, the 2 of my mother’s 4 brothers, left from Greece in the 1950s and flew to Brazil never to return. There has been some contact over the phone and some letters now and then but my grandmother Alexandra and my Grandfather Theodore never saw their children again until they both died in the late 1980s. My mother and her brothers were hoping that at least they would meet again someday. In the beginning of the 90s Michael had a heart attack and died. My mother then heartbroken said: “it’s only the four of us left”.

In the late 1990s my uncle Lazarus, the one of the two who live in Greece died of bone cancer. And they were left only three.

Recently my mother was on the phone with Andreas telling him that they should meet before they die and now that my mother has some money aside since she moved here in Sweden, she might arrange it so to go to Rio with Apostolis (the other brother who lives in Greece) and meet the three of them for the last time.

But last Friday they had about 44C degrees (111F) in Rio and Andreas went to the beach to cool off. His heart couldn’t stand the heat any longer (he had a heart condition) he suffered  a cardiac arrest. The helicopter came to take him to the nearest Hospital in Rio but on the way there he suffered a heart attack. He was in a coma for 3 days in the hospital and on Sunday he died.

My mother devastated she said: “It’s only three of us now …” She looked at me in disbelieve and realized the number was wrong. “Oh no … no we are only two left” Her hand was shaking under mine as she was still holding a potato peeler. I told her to stop what she was doing but she wanted to continue cooking while she was grieving …

At that point we thought that Andreas drowned, because my uncle Apostolis was the one who took the call from Fernando (my uncle’s cousin in Brazil) but due to bad language communication and the fat that my uncle Apostolis was in shock, he only heard “beach, sea, Andreas died” So he assumed drowning. And since  Andreas was Bipolar we all thought he committed suicide. IT took 9 hours before we found out the true story, when my sister managed to communicate herself with Fernando. When the news came, my mom got a slight feeling of relief. It was at least not a freak accident or a suicide. Then she said: “ Go Andrea, go meet the others”

At that point and for the first time in my life I thought that maybe it is okay to let people believe in magic or have imaginary friends like God. Because at times like these,  weak people, or people who have suffered a great deal, deserve a little oasis. Even if it is all a lie. They cannot handle the truth so why not let them find comfort in the imaginary world. At that point my mom really believed that Andreas is going to meet my grandparents and her brothers. She really did. Because since they could not meet again in life they must meet in death. Otherwise it is too unfair. It is too unbearable. It is too pointless the thought of living.

Poor mom.

I feel so horrible for her.

Plus we now have no way of communicating with my cousins in Brazil. Alexandra, Theodore, and Andrea, my three cousins, never learnt Greek and they don’t even speak English. My sister speaks a little Portuguese but not enough to keep real contact. The only connection is Fernando but he is not a blood relative so I don’t know for how long he will be up to translating letters to Gilda ( my aunt ) and the kids.

I had the feeling that I will never meet them. But I always thought and hoped that my mother would. Now the last real link is broken. It is over.

So tragic.

On top of that, my aunt Gilda cannot burry him yet because my uncle being a Greek, one, and living in a third world country, two, never cared about bureaucracy and/or credentials! SO, he does not have ANY papers proving who he was. He just had his passport from the 1950s and a driver’s license, again from the 1950s, but with no finger prints or enough information to prove who the hell he was in order to allow Gilda to burry him. What a country ey?

I am really sad.

Plus there is something else very upsetting going on but I’d rather not to go into details here. I’ll just say that the same day, and before we got the news about Andreas, someone else in the family also got ill and this keeps us all on tip toes day and night.

The 23rd of February was a really shitty day.

Yes I am really sad, but I don’t complain. I can’t complain. Life goes on and it’s the only one I have. It’s a shame to waste it wallowing; Isn’t it?

Have a good day.

 

P.S.

Oh and this one goes to some of my friends who have been really getting to my nerves recently.

Please stop complaining, as if it is the most horrible thing on earth, and making a really big deal about your boyfriends and your girlfriends and your ridiculous relationships … you’re getting a divorce you ‘re not getting a divorce… who gives a fuck?! Stop complaining about your neighbors playing loud music and their dog barking, or the trains being late … or  the pimple on you forehead, or your fucking children making your life miserable because they do not listen (oh no really? Who cares?), or the mother FUCKING weather! Stop wasting everybody’s time calling all odd hours of the day to complain about shit like that.

Fuck off already.

There are more serious matters in life.

Seize the day you blithering idiots.

I know you know who you are and I don’t care if you are offended.

Really. Fuck off.

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