As I’ve mentioned in my previous post I have to go to Germany not only next week, but also next month.
Both of those aren’t holidays or social visits, but a necessity related to something with my family.
Next week’s trip is mostly bearable; I’m heading to my hometown for just over 24 hours to pretty much just place my signature on a piece of paper regarding some legal thing still unsolved from my mum’s death 12 years ago.
Next month’s trip, however, is a different story. It is to visit my grandma in Northern Germany to, and I quote, “sort out important matters that have to be sorted out when I die.”
When I moved back to the UK in 2009 I decided to finally no longer talk to my family. It was long overdue and for over a year none of them contracted me. Granted, I had changed my mobile number, but they were still able to email me, or even contact me through this blog. It took a year until I got an email.
Earlier this year, in order to finally resolve the legal issues, I gave them my phone number and, later, spoke to my grandma in one of the worst conversations of my life during which we alternated between talking about my lack of contact, my granddad’s death in great detail, how I’m the only person left in the family and the weather. Not only did the conversation depress me, but, much worse, sucked me back in. Suddenly I began analysing it, wondering if there’s anything I have to do to help and so on.
Spoiler alert: I didn’t. My birthday came and went and there wasn’t any contact bar the occasional email with the stepdad to sort out next week’s trip until Sunday and an unexpected call from my grandma starting with “seeing it’s been six months, when are you coming over?”
I guess I’ll be going over next month then..