gravity

In this picture, we had just laid my grandma to rest and were visiting the graves of my great-grandparents who were all buried nearby. [You can click on it to see it full size.] The sky was grey, but the light seemed more vibrant than usual, as I think the pictures show.

The cemetery was a long and narrow, a forgotten plot of land bordered by the remnants of Detroit's industry still slogging away.

When my grandma died in Florida, it was raining: a good day to die. When she was buried, it was bitterly cold and grey--and yet beautiful. There seemed to be more contrast than usual: the vibrant greens of the grass, the stoic greys of the graves and slag, and the clouds illuminated by our favorite star, the one holding our solar system together.

Much like that star, the sun, my grandma was the center of our familial solar system, the nucleus of my mom's side of the family. She was also quite the performer, something that I maybe inherited but only in fragments. It's definitely her side of the family that is the most responsible for my musical inheritance. Her parents apparently played folksy music (banjos and such), and her older sister (older by ~20 years) taught piano and played for silent films. Said sister, my mom's aunt, taught both my grandma and my mom.

My sister posted a great tribute to my grandma on her blog.

There's so much to process from the weekend itself; I'm sure it will be coming out over the next few months.