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Being last one left
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<blockquote data-quote="SuZir" data-source="post: 674894" data-attributes="member: 14557"><p>That is lovely Cedar. There is something similar in lighting those candles. Graves are on the oldest part of the cemetery, which makes it also the quietest one. Wiping the snow off from the names on the stone, placing those candles... It has been done before, countless times, by those who came before me, at the Christmas Eve. And I have every reason to hope there will be someone doing this after me. </p><p></p><p>My paternal grandmother, by the way, was one of the hatchlings of this world. One of those who reinvented themselves and appeared from seemingly nowhere. In my culture, where 'coming from somewhere', from the family, from the certain farm or village, is given so much importance, that is both rare and revealing. My dad is a hatchling too, though he has lately reconnected a bit. </p><p></p><p>I actually do know the names of her parents and their occupation, official documents can't be hide, but she was one of those, who left it all behind and attached herself to her husband's tradition. I actually didn't know her well, she didn't give much of herself to me or anyone. She always seemed to live for my grandpa, to be very dependent of him. She fussed, and worried and was very proper and timid. It was difficult to even notice her from the shadow of her husband and her daughter, who both were very strong and big personalities. I spent lot of time with my grandparents but I was always grandpa's girl.</p><p></p><p>Who my grandmother really was, how she felt, what was going in her mind - those things she never let anyone see. She is one of the mysteries in my family tree.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="SuZir, post: 674894, member: 14557"] That is lovely Cedar. There is something similar in lighting those candles. Graves are on the oldest part of the cemetery, which makes it also the quietest one. Wiping the snow off from the names on the stone, placing those candles... It has been done before, countless times, by those who came before me, at the Christmas Eve. And I have every reason to hope there will be someone doing this after me. My paternal grandmother, by the way, was one of the hatchlings of this world. One of those who reinvented themselves and appeared from seemingly nowhere. In my culture, where 'coming from somewhere', from the family, from the certain farm or village, is given so much importance, that is both rare and revealing. My dad is a hatchling too, though he has lately reconnected a bit. I actually do know the names of her parents and their occupation, official documents can't be hide, but she was one of those, who left it all behind and attached herself to her husband's tradition. I actually didn't know her well, she didn't give much of herself to me or anyone. She always seemed to live for my grandpa, to be very dependent of him. She fussed, and worried and was very proper and timid. It was difficult to even notice her from the shadow of her husband and her daughter, who both were very strong and big personalities. I spent lot of time with my grandparents but I was always grandpa's girl. Who my grandmother really was, how she felt, what was going in her mind - those things she never let anyone see. She is one of the mysteries in my family tree. [/QUOTE]
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