🕒 This essay is more than 10 years old (Published Sep 28, 2015).
This was a eulogy I wrote for my grandmother Azra, who passed away in September 2015. Known for her charisma and glamorous sense of style, my grandma was a talented puppeteer and a force of nature. The original text in Croatian is included at the end.
At first, you were kind of a phenomenon. Denis and Dean’s grandma from Norway who always brought presents. All the kids in the neighborhood knew who you were because the two of us always had the latest merch. From Pokémon to Harry Potter, you were up to date with the latest cartoons and trends, even though you probably had no idea who Harry Potter was or what a Pokémon looked like. We were so excited whenever you visited—we knew you would always bring some cool Norwegian fashion, some tasty Norwegian chocolate, and some unique Norwegian souvenir no one else in our neighborhood had.
And then you left the north, came back to Mostar, and moved in across the street. The presents stopped, but you regularly kept a good chunk of your monthly retirement cash in the living room so that you could surprise us with a treat.
“Pop over to Grandma Azra’s” became a new phrase in our lives. Every visit to your place was a high-end theatrical production: you were the main character in all your ornate stories while you showered us with unsolicited pieces of self-improvement advice.
“Whatever you do, I’ll tolerate” you’d say, “but don’t lie and don’t be stingy.”
The two of us laughed at you. I think we laughed because you found a way to always make yourself the center of the universe. And because you genuinely thought very highly of your own opinions.
In these stories, it was never the case that you were excited to see others, but others were excited to see you. No matter who was coming over for a visit, you always needed to look like a Hollywood star. You were so gracious with your compliments any time we did well at school, but you were also a harsh critic any time we did you wrong. You had to eat that special, organic tomato from the farmer’s market and had no patience for any other “fake” tomatoes. The funny thing is that you couldn’t even tell the difference any time we bought the “fake” ones and told you they were organic. You had no interest in what was happening in the world; you preferred to live in your own imagination, where—like the true Mother, the Queen you were—you had control over everything.
We would complain about you, Grandma, because you were a lot sometimes. Deep inside, though, I think we were all envious of your self-respect. Unlike many of us, you had the strength and courage to unapologetically love yourself. And that unapologetic love of yourself is what made you so incredibly lovable and popular to others.
In these last few months, your life started to slowly fade away. You no longer talked, and you no longer laughed. Your playful eyes lost that sparkle while your thoughts traveled endlessly through a distant past, through those days when you used to hang out with your friends by Neretva, through those days when you lived in Cernica and sang and danced.
For the last chapter of your life, you ended up in state in which you never wanted to end up. We, however, choose to not remember you like this. In our memories, you will be the magnificent Grandma you always were to us: warm, affectionate, gracious, honest, full of love, and so very full of life.
You never talked about faith or your concept of God, and I don’t think you thought too much about what would happen when you left this world. Whatever your view was, we know there is a special place up there for your radiant, carefree soul.
And so, Grandma, when you soar through the winds and the clouds today, and when you arrive at the celestial gates, far away in the eternal stillness of this universe, knock on those doors in the best edition of yourself: with a blow-dried hairdo, wearing red lipstick, in your velvet blue tracksuit with a brooch above your heart, and with a big, bright smile.
And as you reunite with Grandpa Nana up there, who’s been waiting for you patiently and faithfully for twenty years, we can already hear what you are going to say.
“My dear kids. If only you could have seen how excited Grandpa Nana was to see me.”
Kraljica Majka
Isprva si bila fenomen. Deanova i Denisova baka iz Norveške koja uvijek donosi poklone. Sva djeca iz naselja su znala za tebe jer smo nas dvojica uvijek imali najnovije igračke. Od Pokémona do Harry Pottera, uvijek si bila upućena u moderne crtiće i trendove iako vjerojatno nisi imala pojma ni što su Pokémoni ni tko je Harry Potter. Tvoje dolaske iz Norveške smo željno iščekivali kao djeca jer smo znali da ćeš sa sobom ponijeti neke norveške čokolade, norvešku robu, i norveške suvenire koje nitko drugi u naselju neće imati.
A onda si postala dio naših života kad si se vratila i uselila u zgradu prekoputa. Poklona više nije bilo, ali si zato u ladici svog stola u dnevnom boravku redovno i velikodušno odvajala dio svoje penzije kako bi nam dala da se počastimo.
“ ‘Ajde otiđi do bake“ je postala nova fraza u našim životima. Svaki odlazak do tebe je postao svojevrsna predstava; bila si glavni lik u svojim pričama dok bi nam davala savjete kako da poradimo na sebi.
“Sve mogu tolerisati,“ znala bi nam reći, “ali me nemoj lagati i ne budi škrt.“
Nas dvojica bismo ti se smijali. Smijali smo se jer si u svojim prepričavanjima uvijek nekako bila centar pozornosti.
Nikada ne bi znala reći da si se nekome obradovala jer bi se drugi uvijek tebi obradovali. Uredila bi se i izgledala kao zvijezda bez obzira na to tko ti je dolazio u posjetu. Veličanstveno si se naglas divila našim uspjesima u školi, i bila ponosna na nas, ali si nas maestralno znala i kritizirati. Jela si poseban paradajz jer su ti svi ostali kupovni bili bezveze, iako nisi nikada osjetila neku razliku kada bismo ti podvalili. Nisi htjela znati što se dešava u svijetu jer ti je bilo draže živjeti u svojoj mašti, gdje si kao prava Kraljica Majka, imala kontrolu nad svime.
Znali smo malo roncati na tebe, bako, jer si ponekad bila naporna. Ali, mislim da smo u principu svi bili pomalo ljubomorni na tvoje samopoštovanje. Čak i u svojim kasnim godinama, za razliku od većine nas, ti si imala snage i hrabrosti da sebe u potpunosti voliš. I upravo je tvoja ljubav prema samoj sebi privlačila ljude ka tebi.
Ovih zadnjih par mjeseci, tvoj život se postepeno gasio. Više nisi pričala i nisi se smijala. Tvoje razigrane oči su izgubile sjaj dok su tvoje nedostižne misli plovile kroz prošlost, kroz dane kad si se družila s rajom na Neretvi, kad si živjela u Cernici, i kad si pjevala i plesala.
Kraj svog života si dočekala u stanju u kojem nikada nisi željela biti. Međutim, mi te nećemo takvu pamtiti. Za nas ćeš uvijek ostati u našim sjećanjima kao naša čudesna baka: iskrena, topla, dostojanstvena, nasmijana, puna ljubavi, i puna života, koja nas je uvijek dočekivala raširenih ruku i s velikim osmijehom.
Nikada nisi pričala ni o vjeri ni o Bogu i vjerojatno nisi nikada previše razmišljala što će biti onog dana kada napustiš zemaljski život. Ali, mi znamo da se za tvoju lepršavu dušu čuva posebno mjesto na nebesima.
Zato, draga bako, kada se danas vineš kroz vjetre i oblake, i kada dosegneš nebeska vrata u svemirskim tišinama, pokucaj na njih u svojem najboljem izdanju, onako kako te se mi sjećamo—kao našu Kraljicu Majku, u svojoj baršun plavoj trenerci sa brošom preko srca, isfeniranom frizurom, crvenim karminom, i velikim, toplim osmijehom.
I dok se pridružuješ dedi Nani, koji te vjerno čeka već dvadeset godina, kao da već čujemo što nam želiš reći dok napuštaš ovaj svijet.
“Moja draga djeco, ne mogu vam opisati kako se Nana obradovao kada me ugledao.”