Happy birthday, grandpa!

As I wrote on Facebook a few years ago: “Grandfather’s birthday today. And Canada’s. Further celebrating celebrities: Lady Di, Debbie Harry, Pamela Anderson and Missy Elliott. Grandma kicks all their asses.”

To the man with the good taste, my grandfather Janez:

Isn’t she a bit like Ingrid Bergman?

You would be 103 years old today. I have your son here and could check this info with him. And your daughter, my mother, has carried your combined smile all the way over to me.

Grandpa, your children are still the best of friends.

Here are two photos that I keep repeating on every blog but they are pretty spectacular and my father is to be praised for them. In the first, my entire mother’s side of the family (in the same garden that follows), and in the second I with both sets of grandparents on a trip:

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  Mom, me, grandma, great-grandma, uncle (visiting now), grandpa. I recognise your smirk from the mirror. Photo: BM

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  Here you are with the hat, and your wife is pointing in the distance. Photo: BM

And now here are some photos from your garden in Ljubljana, Slovenia, where I grew up, full of lovely memories. There is also one of your old house where you raised your family, and the last photo is from where you rest now. You’ll be happy to see the garden still looking great, with some minor surprises. (No, we didn’t put in a swimming-pool. Yet.)

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  Unsurprisingly, knowing you, your son is still full of fun. (And here is the maple you planted!)

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  And your daughter is still full of life.

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  She found these disco balls somewhere and hung one in each of our gardens. (Mine is in Tuscany. Don’t ask.)

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  This is still the party garden.

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  Yes, your younger granddaughter is beyond 40 now. (I know! What does that make me??)

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  No, your daughter didn’t learn accordion. Fake it till you make it. (There exists something like USB… Well, it plays by itself.)

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  Yes, I know. There is a dog in your garden. Sorry. (Not sorry! He’s ours!) And look, there is an Italian on your porch! (As I said, don’t ask…)

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  Ooops, two dogs. And look, there are tables on the grass! (But your son authorised it.)

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  There are also gentler creatures.

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  And what does your son do last before taking me back to Tuscany when the summer is over? Pick his own radicchio! I bet you didn’t see this coming!

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  Your garden is still gorgeous in all seasons: after summer rain.

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  October’s multicolours.

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  In wintertime.

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  In a very wet May like this year’s.

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  The previous house where you raised your family. Last year mom took me to see it for the first time. Everything around it is new but the house still stands.

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  On this day last year (clearly a cold start of July!) mom and I went to greet you and passed this church that made you so angry. Praying that their too loud automated bells stop.

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  Here you are, next to your Nada. Her name means Hope. It is too far to hear the bells.

Grandpa, as you can see, all is well even though I’m a bit far. But no worries, I’ll always be coming back. Thank you for everything but especially for the garden. Oh! And daughter!