Another funeral... Mother of Milan died last friday. We drove to the cemetery (luckily, just across the old place where Lena lived few years ago, so we knew the streets). Found a place to leave the car, by the rear wall. She took the flowers with her and went straight there, not exactly knowing how long will it take me to find a spot, which I accidentally found in a minute, around the corner, but that was enough to lose her - the cemetery is huge and I took the other entrance, which was closer. Met with Lena at the gate. I guess we saw the creme of Belgrade journalism there, the deceased was a prominent reporter. No priest, completely civilian, just some classical music, and in the end, when the coffin was lowered (into the nether rooms, where it will be queued for cremation, probably a week later), and then Sinatra with "My way". Touching. One of her cousins from Varaždin read a speech where he couldn't leave religion alone; the other speech was from one of the reporters but inaudible.
Went for a daća to a restaurant not too far from there, another known street, with just family, which is now just us, Stojan, Milan, Lena and the full bus of kin from Varaždin. We noticed they were exchanging looks amongst themselves, probably trying to guess who are this weird looking couple and, sure, eventually some lady asked „and you are...“ - „Lena's parents“. Which thawed the atmosphere instantly - they know Lena, she and Milan visited there a couple of times, and they must have wandered what we looked like.
We talked a lot. Haven't heard kajkavski dialect in ages, was pleased to see that I still fully understand everything. Of course, someone had to ask how is America different from here, to which I mumbled „well what they say about the different packaging*“.
Chatted with them a lot for the duration of two beers they had (or less) and then they left. We stayed for a late lunch or early dinner, the five of us. Too bad she chose to die (yes, cancer), they're an interesting family, good cospeakers and I was actually looking forward to spend time and time with them. But we had the pleasure only that one time. Well, we'll see with those who remained.
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* for the unitiated, the saying goes „same dick, different packaging“