The service on Tuesday did what it was supposed to do, I suppose, in that it gathered together all of the people, both family and friends, who loved my grandmother. I was lucky that one of my dear friends from middle school, Jenny, offered to keep me company during the visitation, and afterwards my father was allowed to company me to the graveside service. I won't go into too many details describing the service or what my family and I were feeling, because I'm fairly certain most of that can be inferred, and because it also feels a little too personal to discuss openly in a blog. Suffice to say both the visitation and the funeral service itself gave me the necessary closure; I've said goodbye.
The wake was at my uncle's house immediately afterwards, and I stayed for several hours catching up with all of my family from Birmingham. They were all very curious about what I'm doing in Norway, and one of the prevailing questions was, "Do you think you'll stay? Do you think you'll come home?" At first it was fairly easy for me to respond with, "Yes, I'll come home," but since I have been home, I've felt this displaced sense of... it's hard to describe. Like my body is one place but the rest of me is still in the frozen north contemplating catching the 7:38 train from Kringsjaa to Forskningsparken, or walking around Sognsvann enjoying the cold mist and the quiet offered by the wilderness.
It has been surreal for me, recognizing how isolated I kept myself in my life here in Huntsville; not intentionally so much as through necessity. It's nothing like the life I've grown accustomed to in Oslo, and I think that is just a sign that going back to how things were before isn't an option, even if I do come back to Huntsville. But, as with all things, we'll just have to see what happens when the time comes.
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