We buried my grandmother next to my late grandfather. It was a late meeting, coming after 21 years. Thank goodness, our relatives/friends/acquaintances were with us in the grave. People expect moral support from their relatives on special days.
My grandmother was a member of a Thessaloniki immigrant family: she was green-eyed, blonde and white-skinned. She was an authoritarian woman. He lived the last 3 years as a dementia patient, and as the days went by, he became a child. His two daughters-in-law (my mother and my aunt), who are both over 65, took turns caring for him (in accordance with our culture). One of her two daughters, who was younger than her daughter-in-law, was ill and unable to provide care. The other daughter did not take responsibility and refused to take responsibility (For this reason, there were unpleasant situations between my father and my aunt. For the first time in my life, a relative began to have no value to me. How could one value a child who did not take care of his mother?)
That day, I observed what "crying crocodile tears" was. Don't be with him while he's alive, and throw soil into his grave while he's buried! What's the point?
Like most people, I was not saddened by my grandmother's death. He completed his test as the last representative of his generation in our dynasty. Yes, we were disappointed. It was probably the fact that we knew that death was close to us, too, that made us sad.
When my grandmother's friends learned that her age at death was 93, they humorously told my uncle "be a text", which was a much more sincere approach.
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