So when Oma Wacka died I was probably 12. She had always been somewhere around, in the garden or the houe, chasing us children with her walking stick. I don’t know why she loved doing that maybe because she liked the idea of being an old children chasing withc – we sometimes were a bit afraid of her but not really. So when she stopped walking and we had to feed her (I usually did that – I somehow preferred to help her than the little children we had in the house). Then she got sick and we (the children in the house) somehow felt the need to go into her room with our recorders and music and start playing and singing. Max even told a story. Oma Wacka was there, her eyes even open (sometimes). I’m sure it didn’t sound very good but we had the feeling we had to do it not because someone pressurised us but because it felt good. After we finished our concert we said goodnight and went to bed. I can’t remember any adults being around. The next morning we went down to look after her. When we saw her dead there was not surprise. Max again (he was the oldest at 14) had the idea to search for all the candles we could find. So in the end the small room was filled with candles with Oma Wacka in the middle! I remember it as one of our adventures in childhood not spooky, not weird and no-one was crying (usually there was someone crying when we had our adventures). I only cried when we were at the funeral run by the adults. My best friend and I still love to share stories connected with Oma Wacka who loved us children so much that she had to chase us with her old people stick. Long after she died we still played with her sticks.