My father is dead. Considering how he lived his life, he grew old. Inheritance is important for longevity, but you probably also have to take care of yourself. As far as I know, it is a bit unclear what legacy I have. Grandfather drank too much and grandfather died in the Finnish Continuation War.
My father also drank too much and probably did not grow as old as he could have been. But he had his life, and even though he drank away his family, he was my father. Without him I would not have existed.
When he died, it turned out that he had left the church and left no request for his funeral. Despite that, with the help of the municipality’s bourgeois funeral director, we had a very nice farewell ceremony in Silverdal’s chapel in Sollentuna.
After the cremation, the ashes were placed in the memorial grove in Silverdal. We do not know exactly where in the grove the ash is, and there is no memory plaque, or anything like that. His ashes are there, somewhere, and his soul may be in a completely different place. His genes are in me and in my sisters, and in my sons.
It was quite a few years ago that my father died but I have never been to the memorial grove in Silverdal. Today when I sang with the church choir at the All Saints’ Day service in Edsberg Church, I suddenly felt a longing for my father and for the memorial grove. I received a two-day memorial candle from a dear friend in the choir, and I went to the memorial grove. There were lots of people, lots of light, and a lot of human warmth. It was absolutely wonderful!