Sunday Smörgåsbord #073
A hard week. At least we'll always have Eurovision.
Happy Sunday, friends.
I confess I’m actually writing this to you all a few days earlier, in advance of sending today, and in anticipation of a difficult few days.
This weekend marks the first anniversary of my Nanna’s death, and, as well as coming home for it to be with my Mum, we also will today go to visit my Nanna’s house, which has recently been sold.
This is possibly the last time I will ever step foot in a place that has been a constant in my life. A kitchen in which I spent summers making jam tarts, covered in flour. A living room in which my Pa and I would watch Pink Panther films on repeat together, cackling with laughter. A garden in which I performed endless shows for them (and all their neighbours). A dressing table that I sat at, watching curiously as my glamorous Nanna would paint her face every morning, chatting to me.
Would I sound callous if I said that, in some ways, I have felt more grief for the loss of the house than I have done my Nanna this whole last year? Writing that down, I think yes, I would. So let me explain.
The weeks before my Nanna’s death she was very ill, and though I had on some level this strange, almost euphoric feeling that she would be OK, I was simultaneously struck by a feeling of dread so powerful that I couldn’t do much except lie in bed and cry. I didn’t put two and two together at the time that I was feeling some sort of awareness of what was coming. Anticipatory grief, I think it’s called.
I am so grateful I was able to see her in the last week of her life, spend time with her, and tell her how much I loved her. Even the night before she died, when I left her for the first time, I whispered in her ear, ‘I know you are going to be alright’. I imagined a white light all around her body, passing her from head to toe, healing her. We got the call around 6:20am the next morning to tell us she had just passed.
There was a lot of crying that week one year ago, hiding behind hospital curtains so she couldn’t see us, or in my Aunt’s house down the road. There was a lot of crying again at the funeral a month or so later. She was so very loved, by so many people, across places, families, and generations.
But then, after the funeral, I went back to ‘real life’, one in which, in many ways, I could pretend it hadn’t happened. That she hadn’t left us. Living abroad, I only got to see my Nanna a few times a year over the last decade, a feeling which comes as close to regret as I’ve ever felt before. It was a strange feeling. I did get upset, often when I was away on a trip and I’d think to send my Nanna a photo like I used to, but I felt like there was some sort of wedge in place between me and my grief.
Having felt a lot of sadness in other similar situations, like the death of my Uncle in 2015, I knew this wasn’t a normal state for me. That perhaps, on some level, I was afraid to let myself access my true feelings. And indeed in wanting to be there for my Mum, my sister, my wider family, I often feel like I have to be the stronger one, not least because I’ve relied on my family through times I’ve totally lost it.
All this is why, when my Mum told me the house was sold, and I realised I would only have perhaps one more chance to visit, I felt the wave start to hit me.
Truthfully, I’m dreading it, and what it might open up in me in my grief journey. But I also know that it is the perfect, if not the only, way to honour my family. To honour my Nanna, Pa and all that they gave to us in that modest semi-detached house in a simple Wolverhampton cul-de-sac, full of life, love, and laughter.
Have a lovely week,
Emma x
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📰 Features & Podcasts
NB: [PW] signifies a paywall, though some providers allow you to read a set number of articles for free.
‘A third of Britons feel guilty talking about death’, The Times [PW]. I’ve read a few articles this week about ‘Celebration Day’, a new commemorative day (event?) created to give voice to our grief. As this survey (commissioned to promote the day) shows, a third of people in the UK feel guilt talking about their feelings, not wanting to be a burden to others with such talk. What a shame when, in my experience, grief is absolutely something you have to physically let out, hence my feeling so uneasy about my recent experience with it (see intro, above). I should remind myself though that it doesn’t have to be crying. For example writing down your feelings can be just as helpful, or having a ritual of lighting a candle each week as you think of your loved one. I’ve long admired the Mexican’s ‘Day of the Dead’ celebration for making death a friend of theirs, and using it as a day to celebrate the life of the person who has gone, as much as honour their own grief. I am not sure we need a specific shared day to do this, but if it’s a way to get us ‘stiff upper lipped Brits’ to open up and feel our feelings without shame, why not? What do you think about the idea of a Celebration Day?
“What are public parks for? Inside the debate sparked by London festival row”, The Guardian. I was thinking about this topic just the other day, though I can’t for the life of me remember what triggered it. I think I was prompted by reflecting on this weird paradox we have when it comes to music in public places. The majority of us likely detest someone playing a set of speakers in the park or beach next to them, yet think nothing (or little) of a local park being taken over for months to blast out music our neighbours may hate. Other than the obvious answer (money), why do we think nothing of taking over parks in this way? I’m not against it, just curious (though yes, the fact the thought finally occurred to me may indeed be another sign of Getting Old - the first being forgetting why I thought about it).
‘Chris ‘Swampy’ Garrett Obituary’, The Times [PW]. A thoughtful and moving obit of a man I’ve never heard of, doing a job I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Certainly worth knowing, and celebrating, on this ‘Celebration Day’ weekend.
🎨 Arts, Culture & Entertainment
Wind River, dir. Taylor Sheridan (2017). It was strange watching this not long after I read about Jeremy Renner’s snowmobile accident, given the unrelenting cold and harsh landscapes of the Wyoming winter is a key figure of this gripping and affecting mystery. I went in expecting a standard police procedural, with Elisabeth Olsen starring as the ‘fish out of water’ Floridian FBI agent who has to help Renner and the local tribal police force when a local indigenous woman is found dead on the Wind River reservation. What I got was a story that truly shocked me, with one set piece in particular leaving me open-mouthed and wondering what the hell just happened. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting, for the better, but it still left me rattled.
Esa Diva, Melody (Eurovision). I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole of Spanish memes about the country’s beleaguered Eurovision diva, Melody. The rumour mill has been on overdrive ever since she received her 10 public points, telling of cancelled press conferences and her supposedly fleeing Switzerland, so devastated was she. True or not, my Spanish acquaintances, from neighbours to my young, male personal trainer are all mourning her poor performance, all telling me with a shake of the head, ‘well it’s political isn’t it?’. (Yes, I know, given that, Sam Ryder aside, us Brits have been given nil points from the rest of Europe for literally decades). I mean they have a point, and it is a bop. But she also deserves douze points alone for her absolutely bonkers pre-contest voxpops, about her BFF Lady Gaga and her ‘cousin’ Katy Perry. The sound of the Spanish summer? I hope so.
📺 What have you seen lately that’s worth a read, watch or listen? Let me know in the comments.
🍹 Lifestyle
19/99 make-up, online and via Space NK. I love this fun Canadian beauty brand whose ethos is beauty designed for everyone from ages 19 - 99. Having followed their founder for a few years (I discovered her because, full disclosure, she’s a friend of a friend), I clocked that they now ship to the UK. Hooray! I could finally get my hands on some of their bright eyeliners (I plumped for Wasser, Rozsa and Fiore) and their fuchsia lip / blush blend. The product is fab, and what I’ve used has seemed better quality than the more popular competition (I also have some bright Glossier eyeliners and I find they get used up - and rub off - way too easily). And I love the 19/99 marketing which uses a range of models and even features Camille and Stephanie’s own grandmothers. It reminds me of how make-up can be something fun, freeing and creative, and which connects me to the women in my life, like my own grandmother. Hard recommend.
When life gives you (mouldy) lemons, make this easy midweek dish. I will be the first to admit that I am not the best cook. It’s not that I’m bad, per se (though friends, feel free to correct me), nor that I don’t like it, it’s just something I don’t find myself naturally prioritising. So when it was my turn to do dinner this week I decided to turn to a classic (read: easy) option of mine: chicken with lemon and garlic. It was all going so well until I retrieved one seriously mushy lemon from the depths of the fridge. Case in point. Scuppered by a citrus fruit I started pulling things out of the cupboard to see what I could stick on these very boring chicken breasts. In the end I managed to concoct a marinade with four dessert spoonfuls of greek yoghurt, splash of oil, crushed garlic, a teaspoon of Za’atar and half of a teaspoon of Sumac, with salt and pepper to season. I marinaded the chicken for 10-15 minutes then stuck in at 180 (fan) for about 40 minutes. If I did it again, I’d pan-fry it first to make it a little more golden and, typically, add a squeeze of lemon to the marinade. But served with roast potatoes and green beans it was a delicious, succulent and easy midweek meal.
That’s it for this week. I hope you find something in this list that sparks joy or curiosity.
If you’ve got any recommendations on articles, podcasts, Substacks or shows for me to dive into, please drop them in the comments. Until next time!
❤️ Thank you for reading. If you liked this post don’t forget to hit the heart to let me know and help others find my writing.
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🥹😭🫶🏻 Hugs! Thinking of you. Such a difficult loss. 🥰
Always remember Nanna waving goodbye to us from her front door, all the way down the road until we turned the corner ❤️