Saturday, October 20, 2007

Scattered Showers

Hi. Remember me? I have some new urls and don't even know if my old rss-feed will bring you here. Well. If it don't I will just write to my self and that I'll guess is alright as well.

Any questions about the loss of http://acrossandbeyond.blogspot.com/ will be kindly ignored. I will not recognize stupidity it takes to explain that change.

Now I can be found at http://alex.resare.com/ if anybody wants me. Alex as in my first name, Resare as in my surname and Com as in I would sell my soul for dime if anybody offered to buy it.

I rearranged my living room today. I didn't use it at all. I don't know if I buy the feng shui-thing but I didn't like the vibe in here earlier and just didn't go in here if I didn't have to. Since our living room is kind of huge it seemed kind of stupid not to use it at all so tonight I moved everything around. I don't know how I feel about it now but it is not worse at least.

When I moved around the book shelfs across the room I found a collections of poems my grandfather made in the end of his life. The first time I saw it was on his funeral. The title is "Spridda skurar" the Swedish term for scattered showers. My first honest project about my life was called "Cloudy With Sunny Spells". I guess we had a few things in common me and my grandpa.

We lived together for a few years. It was a time when my father in long periods of time was away on buisness, my mom was working hard. It was a time where I felt very lonely. After a happening I call the ironing situation that changed.

When I as a 6 or 7 years old was accused by someone of stealing an iron (I was obviously innocent, the few things I have stolen in my life was far more logical, fun and/or exiting than an iron). I won't tell the whole story now but it was a rough time in my life when I thought I was a burdon to everyone and felt incredibly in the way everywhere and as an unneccesary part of my family.

In the ending of the Iron situation it came down to the moment when the three adults in my life at the moment: my grandmother, my grandfather and my mother all were fighting about me. My mom telling the other two I was too nice to do anything stupid, my grandmother talking about how smart and confident I was and my grandfather telling the others It didn't matter who had done what - I was a child and just needed love and care. I was very encouraged by that. Moments earlier I had felt terrible but just in this moment I realized all three of them had very high thoughts of me even if it came out in very different ways.

As told I was just 6 or 7 years old. I am not entirely sure what happened. But I am sure my grandfather said something that changed me.

Since I was a child the focus wasn't what I had done or not done in this situation. I just needed love and care. I desperatly needed to hear someone telling me just that. And he told me. Not to my face, I am not sure I even was in the room. It was between adults but he said it and I heard. That changed everything in my life as things likely does at that age..

He was there when my parent couldn't.

Now when I am grown up with two girls on my own in the same age I admire that even more. I know how incredible impossible it can be to give support and knowledgeable love at that age.

So here I am sitting here with his poems in my hands. I feel sadened by the fact that I never told him how very much he meant to me. But where we grew up feelings like that was never discussed as far as I heard. I hope he knew were he had me anyways.

Something he gave me during our years together is something that will last for many years to come. Both my mother and my siblings seems to get my father in a way that I have never understood. My grandfather gave me the tools to see both who I am myself and who my father am and how he loves me.

It was never discussed openly but he often told me stories about my father and they most often showed how he went the extra mile to care for someone or something without any words. He gave me many keys I needed.

One of the poems in this booklet I have here are called Rust Free Love. I had heard this one before I got the collection on his funeral. I remembered how he read it to my grandmother on their 50th anniversary. This in a place where men where though and feelings often kept to one self. This is a rough translation:


We have endeavoured together for many years.
My hair has fallen off
Your hair have turned gray

Of all the grand plans I made
are just splinters and gravel left

I wanted to build a large house
for us and our children to live in
It only became a half built shed.

I wanted to give you a rose, a flaming red,
but I hurt my finger on the rose's thorn.
It only got to be a stain on a paper napkin.

I wanted to deliver an honest I'm so thankful
But I stumbled on the syllables
It only came out as an hesitant Umm..


Still it happens
You slip your hand in mine
and whisper:
My friend, I am yours, just yours.


I hope he knew that even if I never was there by his side, I loved that he was always on mine. How he years after he has passed away still helps me figuring out myself through his words and life.

When I was in the (weird) situation that I had to decide a name for my self it was his name I chose. It wasn't even a decision. I wanted to grab hold of something of his.

Today when I rearranged the furnitures I had to get a some help from my daughters. One of them said with the utter most respect in her voice Wow dad, you're almost as strong as grandpa.

I love that they get him and have the same look in their eyes when they talk about my father I have when I talk about his father. It is strange but good. I wonder if they need him to get me in the same way that I needed grandpa. Life is strange and interesting. We'll se what happens.

I like the new arranged living room. My kids are finally asleep. This day is over, my blogging isn't.