Came to Lisbon for this music festival as you may have noticed by the last photos and I found myself not thinking so much about what happened in these last couple of weeks… which was refreshing to say the least.
It’s tough to remember that my aunt is not around anymore… and being at home is a constant reminder of that fact. It’s even harder when people come to me and, with tears in their eyes, tell me how sorry they are and how they remember me hanging around all the time with her when I was a kid. It hurts to remember that and I know people mean well, but… I know all that, I remember, I was there.
When my grandad died I was 8 and after a few weeks of knowing that I would never see him again I started to think that it’s like going to live in some other place, so for me my grandad is just strolling around in Paris, a city that is so close to my family’s heart.
Same goes for my aunt. She’s just strolling around in Paris. With an occasional visit to Barcelona, a city she thought was the most beautiful she ever saw.
Leave a Reply