Grave Visiting Day

The day after Easter, Giorgi called and wanted us to ride along with Gocha and his family into the village for the day. We acquiesced. Gocha first picked up his mother, then Sophie and me, then back to Ruska’s parents house for Ruska and their two children. After a few stops in the city (Ruska desperately needed a Q-Tip before they could leave. I didn’t ask why)(and we needed cat food - yes, animal food is a new concept here), we were on the road. We passed Sophie back and forth between me in the front seat and Irina in the back until she was ready for a nap. She came to my lap for her nap and I probably broke a few U.S. laws shading her from the sun and hindering Gocha’s vision, so she could sleep. Not to mention the absence of a car seat. It’s really a wonder any of us survived before all of the rules and regulations imposed upon us by the U.S. So we were once again living on the edge. And we made it to Sopeli in a little over an hour, I trying to communicate with my broken Georgian and Gocha and Ruska with their broken English.

As soon as we arrived, G and his dad were nowhere to be found. The old me might have been annoyed by this fact, but the new mom-me seized the opportunity to escape up to the guest bedroom to feed my hungry baby in peace. Relatively speaking, of course.

A little quirk of Sophie’s is that she refuses to eat, even when hungry, if there’s any type of distraction. I try to explain this to people but something must get lost in translation. So, shortly after I had stolen upstairs and while I was preparing Sophie for her meal, Irina showed up to putter. When she realized that she was hindering Sophie’s eating, she did go outside, only to periodically peek her head in and ask whether Sophie was still eating, which, of course, only served to stop the eating for a few more minutes each time. But eventually she ate and Giorgi appeared (he and his father had visited his great uncle’s grave).

I then learned why I needed to go into the village for the day: on the day after Easter, everyone visits their family’s graves. This is not your average American-style grave visit where you bring some flowers, maybe cross yourself, say a prayer if you’re religious, have a moment of silence and remembrance and then leave. No. This is a Georgian-style grave visit and, as you might have guessed, it involves wine and partying. Just with a somber tone.

So the family piled into our 2 cars and drove to a small church recently erected at the foot of the ancient graveyard. After entering, Irina was chastised for not wearing a scarf into the church (I had my trusty scarf ready, as I remembered it in the nick of time) and then we lit some candles. On our way out, Gocha hurried us up because he had hired the Mamao (father) to bless Grandpa Gogia’s grave. Sophie made it into the car with Irina, but the father and his assistant had taken Gocha’s and my places, so we had to walk. No matter. I needed the exercise anyway. So we hiked up the path to “GogiaPapa’s” grave where Soso had earlier driven with his new weed-killer contraption. They had purchased it to spray the grapes, but Soso was so excited to use it that he thought he’d test it out around GogiaPapa’s grave to keep the brambles at bay. I found the whole scene hilarious and took many photos.

As Soso was spraying the surrounding area and, for those of you who appreciate the joke, “securing the perimeter,” the father and his assistant did a quick blessing of the grave and were gone before I could take out the camera. Giorgi and Gocha also took some yard tools and cleared away the brambles from around the grave.

Once the yard work was done, GogiaPapa’s family paid their respects to him, each visiting in turn. Giorgi said “hello” to him from Babo, who couldn’t make the trip but told us that she had dreamed of him the night before, where Gogia told her he wasn’t ready to take her with him yet.

We finally broke out the meat, bread, cheese, wine, Easter eggs and Easter bread. We each drank a toast to Gogia, drinking only half of our glass and tossing the rest to Gogia in libations. We then stood around the table (the seats had long disappeared), eating a quick meal and finally left, leaving some bread and dyed Easter eggs and flowers for GogiaPapa.

When we got back to the house, we ate again, Sophie napped and then we packed up the cars and were about the head home, but Giorgi’s cousin Levani (our dance teacher from the wedding) showed up to hug and kiss us with his new bride and her family. We stayed a bit longer to visit with him and toast the family.

Once we finally got on our way, the holiday came full circle when Giorgi got a call from Gogita (the host of the party from the night before) asking if we were still in the village and if so, could we give a ride home to two of his guests. Of course! So we stopped by Gogita’s house to pick up his stranded guests (a famous photographer in Georgia it turns out and her good friend, the granddaughter of Georgia’s most famous actress).

In true Georgian fashion, however, Gogita’s family ushered us inside for coffee and cake while snuggling the baby (who had been quite good until then, but she, too, was ready to go home it seemed). While we were being seated and the cake was being cut, our two new passengers were waiting patiently in the car. I took the opportunity to start heading out the door myself and we finally made it out at least to the driveway, where Gogita’s brother ran to the garden to cut some fresh tulips for me. Full of love in our hearts for these generous people, we were finally on the road back to Tbilisi, where we made it home just in time for a bath, and slept.