My grandparents died close to each other in early summer. Grandpa passed away first and was followed by Grandma only a few days later. They had never been apart so it was what could be expected. Sad of course but also nice chance to meet many cousins. We had been very close in the old days.
My grandparents were farmers running a small farm in the south of Sweden. It was hardly big enough to give a living especially with modern standards but somehow they managed although they had six children. But I guess that they had to consider twice before buying anything. The children had to help with the living from early age and they all left home in their middle teens.
Three of us cousins had volunteered to go to the farm before the funeral to take care of things and prepare it to be sold. It was sad but we were too many to keep it in the family. Some were interested but if they wanted they could buy it at the auction.
I was the first to arrive at the old farm that Friday afternoon in early July. I was early on purpose, I wanted to be alone and remember for a while. I parked and stepped out. The yard was as tidy as I remembered it had always been. I knew that a neighbour had helped them in their old age and obviously had kept on doing it. I felt grateful.
I went up on the porch of the farm house and found the key where it always had been kept in a pot hanging from a peg. In summertime Grandma always had flowers in that pot I remembered. I went inside and opened windows in the kitchen and the room downstairs and the bedroom upstairs. The house was small and now felt much smaller than I remembered it from childhood.
I went out again to put my bedroll in the loft. A long time ago when the children were rather small grandpa had cordoned off part of the hay loft to a spacious room. The children had used it as sleeping quarters from April to October. Later on us cousins used it. Most of us spent some time on the farm each summer. I had been there all summers from the age of five to eighteen and had stayed for most of the summer holiday. My mother divorced when I was very young and had trouble taking care of me. To travel somewhere on vacation was scarce. She took me to the farm in early June and came to visit twice during the summer spending a couple of days each time. Maybe it was more. It was hard to remember. In late August I was brought back home. The loft really felt like home.
There was a faint smell of mild soap. Grandma had always given the floor a thorough scrub at the beginning of June preparing the room for our arrival. She had probably kept on doing that although no kids were expected. But I guess she hoped that we would come and visit and want to stay for a night or two. It happened, I knew that. I suddenly felt a pang of guilt. It was at least three years since I visited them and then only for a couple of hours.
I went back out again and into the cow shed. I found that Grandpa had kept it very tidy with fresh, white washed walls. The old, worn tools hang neatly on their pegs thoroughly cleaned. There was very little dust. The narrow milk chamber was a little moist and cold as it always had been. The row of big milk-cans sat ready on the rack upside down. Only the cows were missing. It was very quiet which it had never been.
The barn was as clean. All old straw had been removed from the loft and the floor swept. The old equipment was neatly stowed in the narrow space, plough, harrow, sawing machine and so on. A few carriages. I suddenly remembered the feeling of riding on top of a wagon loaded with hay, the soft stickiness and the spicy smell.
Near the front door stood Grandpa's most valued asset, the Ferguson tractor. He was very proud when he at last could afford to buy a used one. The Ferguson was one of the greatest inventions ever for a small farmer with its revolutionary hydraulic system and carried equipment. One man could suddenly do so much more on his own. The sad part was that the horse wasn't needed any more. But he bought the tractor when his horse had become old and had to be put down. The Ferguson was clean with only a thin layer of dust. It looked repainted, in the original grey of course.
I still remembered how proud I had been when Grandpa let me drive the tractor, on the field at first, later on even to and from the farm. I was only twelve the first time. I gladly worked the full day if it involved driving the Ferguson. I had spent so many hours in its swinging seat.
On one side stood his work bench and a rack with his hand tools. I remembered how often he had stood crouched over that bench working on something or mending his equipment. I thought his shadow was still there.
Grandpa had loved his farm and to work on it although there had been so much work that paid poorly. But he and Grandma had managed but it had needed that he worked in the forest and also took temporary jobs in wintertime.
I left the barn and took a walk around the fields. When I was young it had felt like a long way around but now I realized how limited it was. Also the land was well kept. Bushes were cut back from the ditch-sides and branches cleared from the tracks. Again Grandpa's shadow was around the bends.
I walked back and sat on the porch waiting for my eldest cousin Anders and his second wife to arrive. Anders had become a respected layer and had taken on the responsibility to sell the farm and handle the division of the inheritance. Quite a few of the other cousins would come the following day to the funeral. But Elisabeth would also come this evening. I was both thrilled and a bit anxious to see her again. We had been close in those days she being only a year or two older.
They arrived close to each other and we soon found the old relationship from our youth. Anders was like a big brother to both Elisabeth and me. Elisabeth hugged me at arrival, a hug that was both long and close. It felt nice and I relaxed.
We had agreed that Anders should bring the food and I the drinks. We were soon busy to get a meal ready. It turned out that both Anders and his wife were good cooks and made a lavish meal. I was lucky to have brought wine that matched. We sat down to eat having a good time and catching up.
While the coffee brewed Anders' wife checked the sleeping arrangements for the night. She went upstairs and found out that there only was one bedroom with two beds. She was worried when she came back down.
"Oh, that's no problem," Elisabeth told her. "You and Anders take the bedroom. Erik and I will sleep in the loft."
"The loft? What's that," she asked a bit puzzled.
"Haven't you told her Anders?" Elisabeth asked. "The loft is the sleeping quarters out in the barn. It will be just fine. I have slept so many nights there so it feels nearly like home even now."
