I don't know if I've mentionned this yet, but my grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. I'm not entirely saddened by this, as somehow, I've already made peace with the fact that she wouldn't be around for much longer. However, someone's death comes with obligations and remembrance. This said I've spent this entire month of October going back and forth from my hometown, Ottawa, to my birthplace, Montreal.
This weekend was the final step to the whole funeral process: the burial.
My family has this lot in a cemetery in a lost little village called St-Tite, Quebec. It's somewhere up north, near Quebec City and that's where I had to go this weekend.
In all, it was cold and there was snow. My 2 year old cousin was having fun, my uncle's wife was crying like it was her mother, my other cousin was complaining, and the rest is all history.
I was a bit troubled by the way my complaining cousin was acting and so was everyone else. After the burial, we went to have lunch at a restaurant not far from St-Tite. While everyone was there, she decided to ignore this and go to the bookstore near there like a little loner. She only came back once we were done eating and ate a small soup, then complained about its miniature size (no duh, it's an appetizer).

And then we made our way back to Montreal in the rain and the cold and I fell asleep in the car. I just realized how someone's death can bring out the worst in people and sometimes it's tough to notice that the people we love have turned, somewhat, into monsters.
It's a relief to finally be back home and to actually know that I'll stay here over the weekend. I really need to get back to work...