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.

Continue reading

(long breathe)

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.