My Cypriot grandfather died
yesterday
my Pappou
17 years and 1 day
after
My Cypriot grandmother
my Yiayia
They both went quickly
In the ambulance
The funeral is tomorrow
It’s 45 Degrees in Cyprus now
He was 92
It still hurts even if you expect it
That strange realisation you will never talk to them again
I remember her funeral
I remember my numbness
I thought of my sister
The only person I am willing to talk to
Sporadically
Evasively
I know he would have wanted us to talk
I can’t remember the last time I had heard her voice
It was exactly the same and totally different
She told me the nitty gritty
He had tried to call me recently
I had my phone off because I didn’t want to be contacted
I thought of him recently
I avoided
It was sudden
Nobody said goodbye
The last conversation was pleasant
I appreciated a lot about him
even though my bond was not strong
I will miss him but I am glad he went quickly
I don’t want to remember the distance
I want to remember
his undying love for food
his a cappella singing
his anecdotes about hilariously named distant family members
his stories of Famagusta
his love of Famagusta
his and my Yiayia’s elopement
his love for my Yiayia
his cooking
his sensitivity and his aloofness
his ability to be positive and happy
despite surviving
one world war
one war of independence
two civil wars
one invasion
being made a refugee in his 50s
and losing the love of his life 17 years before his ended
Goodbye Pappou
Thank you for the love
Να πάεις στο καλό Παππού
Εύχαριστώ για την αγάπη