A setting for dear memories

I am not sure if they are some kind of cherry trees, paradise apples maybe. Those in front of the church in the small town of Nordmaling south of Umeå, where my sister and I grew up. My childhood memory is those trees being absolutely covered in white at Midsummers, our celebration of summer solstice. I have been thinking time has made them more shimmering then they were, as our Midsummers are an unsullied sunny rare memory without dark edges or shadows.

But they are actually for real, those trees, we are noting in amazement at our arrival. It is still only May, but an unreal 80° (27°C) summers day on Friday when the family on my father’s side was gathered for yet another funeral. My dear uncle Lennart passed away some weeks ago only a few months after being diagnosed with cancer. Lennart was a tall, strong, handsome, elegant, well dressed, vital man who loved his senior life at the family beach house, and although he should have turned 82 just a few days ago, his passage was unexpected and much too early. And as Lennart was the last male in my parent’s generation we had to say goodbye to, it was a milestone to reflect and remain on.

He was an in-law, married to my father’s baby sister Barbro. They had 60 happy years together, and up until the end they still looked at each other with the glittering eyes of a couple who just fell in love. On Midsummer Eve 1956 they married in the white medieval church in Nordmaling, and now it was time for Barbro to say farewell to her husband, friend and life companion at the altar where they promised each other a life together in sickness and health.

I am thinking, the setting for the days of the wedding and the funeral might have been identical. This year’s spring was cold and at least three weeks late. Then the warm weather came over night about two weeks ago and has stayed with us making the nature explode and now we are three weeks early! Apple trees, cherries, lilacs, red campion, buttercup, cranesbills, cow parsley, globeflower and forget-me-not, meadows and groves becoming clouds of those precious early summer colors that are Midsummer to us. So my dear aunt Barbro had Midsummer in the white Nordmaling stone church once again, and the circle is closed.

During the ceremony I found myself thinking, living as a single person has an unexpected advantage; you don’t have to be the one left by yourself at the end of your life. If my ex husband and I had stayed together and lived until the now average of 80-90, we would have shared life for 60-70 years. Now we said our goodbye half way. It was painful. And the grief and emptiness from a divorce has its similarities with being separated by life’s ending. It’s an odd feeling appreciating a bittersweet gratefulness that my farewell has already happened. But deeper down also an embarrassing reaction that there will be no one missing me the way you are missing the one always carried in your heart, until the end of time walking beside you.

I am sitting outside my childhood church looking at the characteristic red bell tower. Note to Americans: Swedes in general don’t have a “childhood church” as we are one of the more secularized countries in the world. But I do. My mother used to sing in the church choir and so that’s where my musical life started too. Spending uncountable boring hours listening to sermons in this beautiful building constructed in the 15^th century, I know every corner of it. Every painting has its fantasy story, the sculptures have been imaginary touched by my girl hand and the light from the colorful church window has played on my skin.

Being surrounded by this part of my childhood I feel like I am looking at myself. Every little bit of this picture I am sitting in, is so familiar it’s incorporated deep down in my body and soul. This is the core of myself. This is where I come from. This is me.

Afterwards in the late afternoon my sister and I are picking a bouquet of meadow flowers behind the old vicarage, just as we did every Midsummer with friends and family throughout our childhood. And we are giving this early summer symbol to our parents, visiting their grave at the creek, telling them that Lennart is no longer in the world where we all used to be. And we are walking in under the blossoming apple trees, letting them make a white roof above our heads.

Usually our early memories fail us in a reality check. Leaving us disappointed and in question of ourselves. Discovering the scenery and the childhood paradise apple trees being even more amazing than we remembered was overwhelming and truly wonderful. And I hope and trust that my aunt Barbro will have one more beautiful memory from the church where she married the love of her life.