Gunnel's funeral
We have just returned from a whirlwind trip to Sweden for Gunnel's funeral. We left on Monday evening, arriving in Gothenburg at about 9pm, to be collected by John's cousin Magnus. He drove us to his house, which is conveniently nearby.
What a lovely home he and Sofie have made for themselves. Sofie showed me the photographs of the work in progress and they have put in a lot of effort. There is still more work to come, as they attend to the rest of the house, but what they have done is little short of remarkable. They obviously both have an eye for interior decor. As with so many Scandinavian homes, the whole approach is uncluttered and minimalist. Very restful.
Calle (Kalle?), their little boy, is the image of Sofie in so many ways. Last time John saw him (which was when he went over for Lennart's funeral) he was speaking an unintelligible dialect all his own. This time (a scant few months later) he spoke very intelligible Swedish. He has the typical fine white hair and piercing blue eyes of so many Scandinavian children, and his mother's dainty little upturned nose and small build makes for a most elfin child.
We spent a very pleasant evening with them. The next day (yesterday) was the funeral itself. The Swedes (or perhaps just the Lutherans) are quite formal in their observance, so it was very much a case of formal, black clothes. The service was also formal and structured, but it was evident that the preacher was burying a friend. She spoke about Gunnel (if my poor Swedish didn't deceive me) in terms that only a friend could achieve. There is a point in the service where each row of mourners goes up to pay respects, laying flowers on the coffin before giving a little bow and returning to their seats. This was very moving and I saw the preacher wipe a few tears away, herself. I hadn't expected to shed any tears myself, but watching Gunnel's older grandsons weep unashamedly with little regard for their street cred as handsome teenagers, I was very moved.
Our own boys were remarkably well behaved throughout the whole service, considering they understood not a word of the proceedings. They solemly shook hands with everyone and greeted them in Swedish, giving their names as they did so. They gave no indication that they were bored, although they must have been, and they even sang along to the psalms, pronouncing the words as best they could, even though they didn't understand them (which is pretty much what I was doing, I guess).
After the service, lunch was served in the hall, which Gunnel's son-in-law prepared. This was a chance for people to catch up and reminisce. Of course, John encountered many cousins he hadn't seen in an age, if ever, and met the woman who was his Mom's best friend in childhood.
We received many invitations to visit, which we will gladly accept - our children need more input from this side of their heritage. We hope to visit John's second cousin Sven in Stockholm - I have long wanted to visit gamlastan (the old city) and this looks like being our chance to do this. Sven took to Torvy and was very good with him. Björn was a little more aloof, nursing an injured heart (he is drafting a post on this at present).
Once everyone had left and the hall was cleared, we went back to Magnus' house. This is perhaps the time to do the English thing and talk about the weather - albeit with good reason. When we arrived in Sweden, there was some snow cover on the ground. Yesterday morning, we awoke to find a little more, but then the heavens opened and it really came down. With strong winds whipping it into little flurries. This kept up throughout the service and the lunch and, by the time we left, there was a lot of snow about the place. The boys were thrilled and took the opportunity to play in the snow - riding down the slope on snow racers.
In the afternoon we heard that the airport was closed. We decided to dash off and buy an extra day's clothing since we had travelled so light, we were unprepared. While on this mission, we found Björn a new pair of ice skates for an excellent price. Armed with the skates and the clothes, we took the Bjureblads to an Indian restaurant for an early dinner.
By now, we were getting indecisive information about whether the airport would re-open, so we went there, just in case. The flight did, in fact take off - it was the only one to do so out of Gothenburg City airport yesterday, and it was the most rushed take-off I've ever known. We were almost herded in and thrown into the sky before the freshly ploughed runway could be covered again.
We got back very late last night (early this morning), so the boys are taking the day off to recuperate. I nearly did the same myself, but thought better of it. That's twice in quick succession that John has paid a flying visit to Magnus' house - both times to attend the funeral of one of Magnus' parents. We have got to visit again under more leisurely, less unhappy circumstances!
What a lovely home he and Sofie have made for themselves. Sofie showed me the photographs of the work in progress and they have put in a lot of effort. There is still more work to come, as they attend to the rest of the house, but what they have done is little short of remarkable. They obviously both have an eye for interior decor. As with so many Scandinavian homes, the whole approach is uncluttered and minimalist. Very restful.
Calle (Kalle?), their little boy, is the image of Sofie in so many ways. Last time John saw him (which was when he went over for Lennart's funeral) he was speaking an unintelligible dialect all his own. This time (a scant few months later) he spoke very intelligible Swedish. He has the typical fine white hair and piercing blue eyes of so many Scandinavian children, and his mother's dainty little upturned nose and small build makes for a most elfin child.
We spent a very pleasant evening with them. The next day (yesterday) was the funeral itself. The Swedes (or perhaps just the Lutherans) are quite formal in their observance, so it was very much a case of formal, black clothes. The service was also formal and structured, but it was evident that the preacher was burying a friend. She spoke about Gunnel (if my poor Swedish didn't deceive me) in terms that only a friend could achieve. There is a point in the service where each row of mourners goes up to pay respects, laying flowers on the coffin before giving a little bow and returning to their seats. This was very moving and I saw the preacher wipe a few tears away, herself. I hadn't expected to shed any tears myself, but watching Gunnel's older grandsons weep unashamedly with little regard for their street cred as handsome teenagers, I was very moved.
Our own boys were remarkably well behaved throughout the whole service, considering they understood not a word of the proceedings. They solemly shook hands with everyone and greeted them in Swedish, giving their names as they did so. They gave no indication that they were bored, although they must have been, and they even sang along to the psalms, pronouncing the words as best they could, even though they didn't understand them (which is pretty much what I was doing, I guess).
After the service, lunch was served in the hall, which Gunnel's son-in-law prepared. This was a chance for people to catch up and reminisce. Of course, John encountered many cousins he hadn't seen in an age, if ever, and met the woman who was his Mom's best friend in childhood.
We received many invitations to visit, which we will gladly accept - our children need more input from this side of their heritage. We hope to visit John's second cousin Sven in Stockholm - I have long wanted to visit gamlastan (the old city) and this looks like being our chance to do this. Sven took to Torvy and was very good with him. Björn was a little more aloof, nursing an injured heart (he is drafting a post on this at present).
Once everyone had left and the hall was cleared, we went back to Magnus' house. This is perhaps the time to do the English thing and talk about the weather - albeit with good reason. When we arrived in Sweden, there was some snow cover on the ground. Yesterday morning, we awoke to find a little more, but then the heavens opened and it really came down. With strong winds whipping it into little flurries. This kept up throughout the service and the lunch and, by the time we left, there was a lot of snow about the place. The boys were thrilled and took the opportunity to play in the snow - riding down the slope on snow racers.
In the afternoon we heard that the airport was closed. We decided to dash off and buy an extra day's clothing since we had travelled so light, we were unprepared. While on this mission, we found Björn a new pair of ice skates for an excellent price. Armed with the skates and the clothes, we took the Bjureblads to an Indian restaurant for an early dinner.
By now, we were getting indecisive information about whether the airport would re-open, so we went there, just in case. The flight did, in fact take off - it was the only one to do so out of Gothenburg City airport yesterday, and it was the most rushed take-off I've ever known. We were almost herded in and thrown into the sky before the freshly ploughed runway could be covered again.
We got back very late last night (early this morning), so the boys are taking the day off to recuperate. I nearly did the same myself, but thought better of it. That's twice in quick succession that John has paid a flying visit to Magnus' house - both times to attend the funeral of one of Magnus' parents. We have got to visit again under more leisurely, less unhappy circumstances!
posted by karynr at 12:24 pm
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