Snow Covered Isolation: Splendor

For a family living in the tropics and in the deserts the idea of a white winter wonderland is a bit of a rarity. But on this trip to Sweden - regardless of the emotional rollercoaster that it took us through - we had a chance to connect with a part of nature that we were not accustomed to. Only daddy has lived in a cold winter environment before and the rest of the crew was unaccustomed to anything requiring longs pants and coats, much less having to deal with the bitter cold of freezing temperatures. 

Thankfully for us the temperatives didn't make it too far below freezing and the 'a little above, a little below' of the time we were there resulted in comings and goings of overcast skies, snow storms and the following quiet calm of post-storm, thick snowed neighborhoods. It was the kind of thing where you simultaneously wanted to get out and play in the snow and sit inside, sipping a cup of hot chocolate, watching the natural stillness and wonder of the day/night. 

If we had not been there for Aleko's funeral one could say that it was an amazing trip. We got stuck there an extra week or so (with Covid making its way through the family in shifts) but recognized just how magical the place was and how incredible the opportunity to just be part of this winter wonder. The girls were giddy. The parents were excited. The snow sat there, waiting to be engaged with. White everywhere. And that chill or a nordic winter day. In so many ways it was the perfect way to say goodbye to Uncle 'Eko and celebrate Pappou's turning 90. Quiet. Splendorous. Incredibly beautiful. 

So as we made our way - or waiting through it - and did as best as we could to work from a distance, it was the amazing natural surroundings that brought that sense of being to us. And the added fact that the silver lining of Covid was to be 'stuck' with one's family. It was as if the world was telling us that it'll be okay. There is much in the world to allow in, to welcome and to grow from. And Aleko is there too. In it. In us. 

Pappou Turns 90!

 

It's not often someone in the family turns 90 but here we were!  After the difficult closure (of sorts) with Uncle 'Eko it was time to shift gears to celebration that is a beautiful life. Months earlier we had toyed with the idea of sharing Pappou's ninetieth birthday in Sweden with him and, at the time, it seemed like an impossible feat. Covid was running rampant. Sweden was closed to us. All of us were in that right state of worry regarding everyone's health, social distancing, etc. 

But perhaps Aleko's final present to us all was to bring us together to celebrate the man "who took the bus" as we like to say. It's a story of following a path that is sometimes made for you, of saying 'yes' to opportunities and to one's journey, as he once so well put, "otherwise to elsewhere". In this case the elsewhere was in central Sweden, with friends and family in a place known to him but new to us. 

It was a beautiful location on a beautiful day with beautiful people and a three course meal offered by friendly staff. In included a serenade of sorts by friends and also a spontaneous one from a certain four year old granddaughter who, as it turns out, had been working on learning the words (and actions) of the song Let it Go. It would typically be done, of course, in an Elsa outfit but one wasn't worn on this day. No matter because a room full of adults sat in awe as both older and younger performers shared their love through music. It was the type of present that will be held for a good long time. 

The wonderful event was followed by a walk, just across the way, to the chapel where candles were lit and placed on the candle holders. As Mocca mentioned this has typically been a place where candles are lit for giagia, but now were also being lit for uncle 'Eko. There were meories, all concealed within our minds, but obvious as to their nature. There were tears. And solemn quiet. There were hugs and there was love. Always love. 

Later on we returned to the house to do the little things that families do. To talk and chat about this and that. The moments that so often fill life with the glue that it takes to make it worth living. And living this man has done... with travels and journeys (both literal and figurative) and with a family that both recognizes the enormity of his heart and the fullness of his spirit. 

Happy 90th pappou! Love. Everywhere. 

Goodbye Uncle 'eko

When we first started this blog, sometime at the very end of 2007, we had not envisioned spending time to write about the "goodbyes" that our lives would endure. And certainly we never envisioned that, so soon, these goodbyes would be so close to home.  Over the years we have said goodbye to a number of people including the girls 'Taita" (Beto, their Colombian paternal grandfather). But this one came what seemed like 30 years too early. Suddenly, with a barrage of WhatsApp messages and missed calls received as we all sat on the living room floor for a movie night, turned into a tumultuous and emotionally overwhelming few months. 

Uncle 'Eko had been spending a wonderful week or so in Thailand with his wife and their young daughter. What turned into the final day of his life they had been in Khao Sok National Park, in the middle of the jungle at a small, friendly, eco resort. It was the quiet kind of place where one could listen through bamboo walls to the sounds of nature outside. They had spent the day bathing elephants, adding to the experiences one wants to for their family and child. It was the kind of holiday that, as one goes through it, makes life's experience that much richer. And it was a short respite from what was expected to be a new chapter in Sweden toward new dreams and opportunities for them all. They expected to visit us in Dubai in a few short days and we would going to just keep taking those steps to continue a life-long journey of family with the ebbs and flows that entails. 

But that night was different. The final photo above was the final one taken of him. He was happy, smiling, sharing a bed with his family, after a day in nature. It's the kind of photo one cherishes even in 'normal' times. But what followed a few short hours later was a roller coaster for our entire family and a sudden goodbye to him. 

Shortly after his passing, as we were enveloped in sorrow, we took a long introspective look into our selves, our family and our being. Thankfully we have no regrets of our life. We have amazing, wonderful, fun-filled memories of the time that he made sure that he gave to us, despite (or perhaps because of) the plethora of whirlwind trips in all sorts of great places. 

His life was one of travel, of being together with family, of connection, of creating a life's experience so full of the intangibles that keep families together. He was there, for all of us. And now it falls on us, as we wipe our tears away, to continue to live as he did. With a sense of adventure. A sense of "let's do this". Our task also is to carry him with us everywhere we go, in whatever ways we can. 

As we entered the hall where the funeral would be held, in Stockholm, the tears streamed down our faces. The grief was overwhelming, echoing the sense of loss we all continue to hold. And as the family and friends streamed in we were reminded of the connections we all have, through him. The fact that one person can bring so many together from so many places, even for a brief moment in time, is quite amazing. And on that day, on that occasion, we would all share a place and time, for him. To pay our respects, yes. But also to hang on to his memory, to let him know that he remains in us in all we do.  We are, after all, pieces of the same puzzle. 

In so many ways his passing challenged the assumptions we had about what life might look like in the future. Who will be the connector he's always been?  Who will make the check-ins that seemed to come so naturally to him?  Who will ensure that they give time and effort to simply be together?  In so many ways these are answers that will take time to work out. For now we do what we can to do what he did best... to keep us all together as an extended family, from Los Angeles to Europe, to the Middle East and across time and space. Uncle 'Eko, we love you.  Here, now and for the rest of our days and throughout the journey we call life. 

His goodbye ceremony was held on Valentine's Day. The day before his mother's birthday. Two days before his father's birthday. Strangely, we felt that the connections, through love, were appropriate. Love here. Love wherever you/he might be. Whatever happens after life is 'done' may love be there too. Everywhere.