Great Grand Aunt Lena

This past week, my grandfather's Aunt Lena passed away, one month shy of 94. She was an incredible lady, alive with love, full of spirit and compassion for every single member of her family. She was the matriarch of us Weinkles, the only first generation alive. Last night, I got back from the funeral, a whirlwind event. I drove down with some relatives Saturday afternoon, the funeral was Sunday, and after the Shiva, we drove back. We wouldn't have been in such a hurry had Devi and I not had classes starting today, which incidentally, I almost missed, from sheer exhaustion. I missed my first bus, but I'm trying not to let the imperfect starts betray my renewed sense of purpose.

I could not, for the life of me, fall asleep easily last night.

Here's what became of it:


I could stay up late writing to stay sane.
After a funeral like that, my thoughts flood in with the rain. Outside, the pool tests its limits, threatening any second now to pierce the surface and wash away the patio.

It rained the whole way down, and even though I nestled myself in the furthest, coldest corner of the rented minivan, I could still hear the other side of the family redefine what it means to have dysfunction. But my aunt, sitting shot gun, would be the one wearing the shirt that sarcastically conveyed this.

I got tipsy on Beefeater Gin and Soda Water, in homage to my English Nana Banana, even though we were celebrating the memory of my Russian Great, Great Aunt. (ed: She was really Great.) Death has never bothered me so deeply.

Lena was such a shining force; close to everyone, a true light and guide. And if all that matters in the end is love, what is everyone doing spending 3/4 of a million dollars on yachts?

Being a good person matters so much more. Who are they to say I threaten to take all I have for granted? Why are families so intense?
The imperfect combinations of love and over concern mixed by an inexperienced bartender with nosy intrusion.

The gin didn't nail me as hard as the circumstances, so I took a Heiniken for the road, but now wonder (at 3 in the morning) if certain relatives passed any judgement towards my drinking. So, I am left with terrible stress over disappointing them all, (20+), into my junior year npw, with nary a thought towards the future, as far as careers go.
What shall I do for a living, mesdames et messieurs? Live.

And still, Lena glows within us all, radiant love for the blood that courses through all our veins, truly unbreakable bonds that won't let us forget where we came from.
She was the matriarch, left behind by 10 older brothers, toughened by years of very difficult love.
She was gracious, elegant, the porcelain embodiment of class. As if you could line her up in a case with figurines, like the ones she collected fomr everywhere she went, a souvenir of good life.

A month before her 95th birthday, she got us all together again, so what do I care about bank accounts and graduate school?


----anyways...I have to get to my next class, Lingusitics. The professor has a terrible reputation, but I could use a challenge....We'll see.
Peace out.