I DON'T WANT TO CRY - ÖSTERSUND - DAY 20

We started the day with another beautiful breakfast of mjukbröd, butter, ham and cheese. I drink my coffee, and can see Gebba is heating large, flat stones in the oven. I ask what this is for, and she simply replies, “It’s something special for dinner tonight”. I’m not sure what it is, but I’ve never seen anything more Viking. We do our routine, and take the car to meet Ullis in town.

With Dad’s story of believing in God yesterday, it’s Sunday today, and on our morning drive, we pass a completely deserted church to which my Dad points to and says, “Oh, packed with people on a Sunday”. It’s too funny, and Mom and I crack up. Typically my Dad is more reserved with comedy, so for him to tell a joke of this caliber takes us by surprise, making us laugh even harder.

We meet Ulrica in the center of town, scoop her up, and make our way to Frösö Kyrken / William Petterson Berger’s house. The ride is a little hairy with Dad’s driving, but we all survive. Occasional screams and nervous laughs can be heard from the back of the car where I was sitting.

We arrive at the church, and it’s just as we left it 12 years ago. The surrounding landscape is the most breathtaking. There’s potential for a storm so the clouds are rich, deep blues, distorted shapes, and hanging low, giving the fields of gold and green a dramatic background. We’re near an airport, but we fly the drone here regardless. It’s far enough away, and I only fly for a few moments, low, to capture some footage and stills. It’s so beautiful. Dad’s right...Someone have had to create this.

We drive to another location for more droning, until it’s brunch time. We come to the hotel where Ulrica wants to treat us, but we’re a bit early and they’re not open yet. We use the bathroom, admire the place we’re going to be eating soon, and drive off to explore more of the area.

The entire place used to be for the military- The Air Force specifically. As we drive around, we pass old barracks, military trucks, and pockets of road off to the side of the main road, like a large shoulder. Apparently, this is where they were hiding plans for defense, incase the main airstrip were to get bombed. Of course all of this is gone now, but a pretty cool sight to see.

We double back, and stop at the hotel again for brunch. This time it’s open. There’s a beautiful spread of meat, potatoes, lax, pancakes with cream and jam, Brie cheese, olives, chicken satay, and a multitude of other delicacies. I eat everything. Plus chia seed pudding, juice and coffee. I thought maybe I had taken too much, but when the rest of the family went small for their first helping, and then proceeded to add to it by going back for a second, and third helping, I then felt better about piling a mountain of food on my first and only helping.

Ulrica asks me to tell her all about my life in the film industry back in California. I tell her about my good friend and mentor, Pär, how we met trough Jonas, and how he’s been training me, believing in me, and making sacrifices to bring me up. I talk about how I started in the film industry, and began with Jonas as something of a secondary assistant. Then on every set, I was hanging around the camera carts, fascinated with the camera technology, and that’s how I met Pär, a Swedish DP (Cinematographer). I told her how I’m the third person he’s brought up, how I know the second person he’s brought up- Another good friend of mine in the industry, Magnus. I told her all of my difficult, but dark comedy experiences in the city, including the time I had to build a “glamping” tent for Jonas, and when I had to convince the FedEx guy over the phone that my boss wasn’t converting me to Satanism when I was assigned to digitize Jonas’ art book. And then I told her some of the bad stories with a pig Director I worked with, and how I got kicked off of one set because I was "too hot" and shouldn’t be flirting with the political hire PA, because the client was his mom. (In reality, he’d never done the job before, and I had to tell him what to do, so he hung around me all day. To this day, he doesn’t know what his mom did, and we’re still really good friends). I then told her about my experience at the new media company, and how some of the egos there turned me off, and that they’re not aware they make web videos for 10 year olds, and bored middle aged moms watching these videos on their mobile devices while taking a shit. Full disclosure, most of the people there are really wonderful though. I also mention how the older guys in Pär’s camera crew talked to me, without meaning any offense, that I need to move fast and actually start Directing if I want to have a family and / or make some money, otherwise I could get stuck doing non-union camera work.

At this point I thought maybe I was talking too much, and reverted back to my childhood ways of being a sörfia, (a “chatterbox”). But Ullis insisted she wanted to hear more, and to know all of it, so I carried on. I told her how Sweden interests me for giving independent artists opportunities when it doesn’t exist in America, (or at least not in a professional sense with the opportunity of having a real career), and how the gender equality is so good here versus in the States. I explain how the #metoo movement, and the #timesup movement are sparking SOME change, but there really isn't much happening at ground level for the rest of us, and how it’s not fair that twenty-something dudes just happen to “fall upward into” Directing, and women of the same age never get a chance and aren't taken seriously. I don’t want to be 50 by the time I get a career to only have it last 10 short years thereafter with maybe only two films made.

She laughs, is happy, and then is shocked and angry, and then becomes surprised after hearing all of this. She agrees, and assures me that Sweden might be a step in the right direction for moving up in my career in film, and having more opportunities to learn, grow, and establish myself. Sweden is very generous, offering school and grants to make films- Something that just doesn’t exist in the states because in Europe, making art is publicly funded. I assume this is because there’s too many people, too many projects and not enough money in America, but really, it's just because our country doesn't make it a priority.

Regardless, I catch her up on all four years that I’ve spent in California, so now Ullis hasn’t skipped a beat. We finish brunch, and thank Ulrica with hugs and kisses. The food was incredible, and once again, we’re STUFFED.

We drive around more through the surrounding land, with our eyes glued to the passing scenery. If the Vikings history, the food, and my family haven’t convinced me by now, seeing all of this just makes me feel so proud to be Swedish. I’m equally as proud to be Armenian, and although I haven’t been to Armenia yet, being in Sweden makes me feel right at home. Having this sense of “home” awakens a new sensation of warmth and happiness from deep within, and reverberates through every fiber of my being. I love it here.

We come back in to the city of Östersund, but from another side. We park, and take a walk along the lake. Dad and Gebba walk fast, and far from me, Mom and Ulrica. The three of us chat about silver metal working, the film industry, and my favorite shows. Ulrica wants to know this, so she can watch new things. This of course, is my specialty, so I excitedly tell her all my favorites, what they’re about, and why I like them. It’s all dark and / or dark comedy content of course... “Rick and Morty”, “Bojack Horseman”, “Black Mirror”, “A Young Doctor’s Notebook”, “End of the Fucking World”, “Shameless”, and “HAPPYish”. I knew way too much about the shows, it’s creators, and the backgrounds of each creator... I even quote a funny scene from “Rick and Morty” word for word, suddenly reeling from my spontaneous nerdgasm, but lose all sense of embarrassment because, it’s Ullis.

As we walk and talk, we see the translucent lake water before us, acknowledging a shimmering, setting sun as it simultaneously illuminates the lush green forest, and ski zone on the opposite end of the lake. Ulrica explains that during Winter, the lake freezes over, and the kids come here to skate on it. I’m not fond of long, dark winters, but it sounds like tremendous fun- I’d love to try it one day.

We come to a statue of “Father and Son”, naked and hugging. Despite my description, it’s actually really sweet, until we catch up with Faster Gebba, as she looks at it and says, “small penis” in Swedish. We laugh as we make our way back to the car. I talk more about the film industry like the narcissist I pretend I’m not, and tell Ulrica about the catch 22 of the industry when she asks about getting managers, agents or joining the union. I explain how you have to make stuff to get noticed and repped to make more stuff, and how it took me four years to realize that all of these successful actors who have film production companies were only able to do that through their capital from acting. They can pay for an LLC, to have lawyers to make solicited content, and have representation for connections and meetings, and even money to pay for book rights to adapt a script. It’s a rich man’s game. I'm still playing though, hoping to one day win.

Ulrica is upset by this, but we go back to talking about how Sweden might be better. I haven’t liked the city back home for the past two years anyways. If it hasn’t grown on me by now, I’m not sure if it ever will.

We get back to the car, and Dad, Gebba and Ulrica talk in Swedish. It’s too fast for me to get everything, but it’s something about us returning the car, and Ulrica wanting to come with us and walk back, but then Dad refusing saying it’s too far for her to walk. I’m honestly surprised when I figure out we have to say our goodbyes right then and there.

I let Mom go first, prolonging my goodbye, and to also think of something darkly humorous to hold back tears. There’s nothing wrong with showing emotion for the ones you love so deeply, but I didn’t want to remember myself ugly crying when I say goodbye, I just wanted to remember Ulrica.

Ulrica and Mom hug and sob together. It’s not until Ulrica cries so hard that I’m reminded of the toll her illness must take on her from day to day. I don’t mean this to sound pretentious or pious but, our visit must’ve been a nice getaway from it for the past two days in the very least. I also know she’s going to read this, and she’s a strong, stubborn Viking that spits on pity, so I won’t go any further.

As Ulrica hugs Mom, she says “Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go” through her tears. I have to turn around form this as I’m moments away from losing any possibility of keeping my emotions under control. I don’t want to cry.

It’s my turn. We melt into each other. I shed one tear from my right eye, but nothing more. We simply hold on to one another, and I let her cry into my arms. I thought this was sweet, that she would take care of and comfort me this way when I was 3, and now at 26, I could return the favor. She tells me I’m a Viking, and to go back to the city and KICK. ASS. I don’t want to cry. I simply whisper, “Jag älskar dig”. She says the same to me, “I love you Emilie”. I kiss her on the cheek and let go. Mom goes back for more. Through hugs and kisses, Mom reminds Ulrica that she’s family, how much we love her, and that we’ll visit again soon- next time it won’t be 12 years apart. Dad comes in, in typical Dad fashion, and gives her a big hug, but no tears- Northern Swede with suppressed emotion haha! He later tries to break the tension by saying that Norwegian Air will take her to us in America in 12 hours. I piggy back on dissolving the sadness by jokingly telling Dad to “Shut-up Erik” in Swedish. It works a little. Ulrica and I hug once more, for a long time. We let go, and I make her laugh by making a Rick and Morty joke. Mom’s a mess as well, but it’s harder to tell how much she’s crying behind her sunglasses.

Ulrica walks away from the car, on her way home. Everyone gets in the car, but I take in an extra moment to watch her walk away. Just because.

I get in the car too. Moms still crying, and as Dad drives off, I’m just quiet, staring out the window. Goodbyes are always the worst- Even with social media at our fingertips. It's nothing like the real thing where you can talk in person, and hug each other whenever you want, or even something simple like playing a card game with each other. Real human connection. Yeah, goodbyes suck. Mom expresses this more outwardly. I don’t mind showing this, I just wish I felt it a little less deep... Not so visceral. The reality is, if I don’t try to control myself, I just fall apart. I’ve always been like that.

We drive to Gebba’s first, and drop our valuables before driving to the gas station to drop off the car. The rawness of our emotions from before have let up steam, and we enjoy a long walk home on another perfect day. Dad and Gebba are far ahead of us as usual, and Mom and I are bringing up the rear. Mom and I talk about Ulrica, and how we're missing her already. Mom remembers how hard it was to say goodbye to her the first time in Denver, when she had to go back home to Sweden. I told Mom I remembered that, and shared my memory, before social media existed, when we said our goodbyes with her at the Denver Airport. I think I was about 4 or 5, and asked, “Will I ever see you again”? This makes Mom cry more, and I have to quickly remind her that Ulrica visited us a few times in Denver, once in France, a few times in Sweden, and once in D.C.- Everywhere we’ve lived. This made Mom cry less.

We come home, and enjoy the sunshine on the balcony with some white wine. We call Ulrica to check on her, and she’s doing okay now. I ask her if she has FaceTime- She does. I tell her as long as we email the other first to see if the other is awake, we can FaceTime each other from now on. This cheers both of us up right away, making the separation just a little less hard to swallow. I promise to talk soon, we say “I love you one more time”, and hang up. I don’t want to cry. I take a gulp of wine to conquer the lump in my throat.

We call Faster Mona after to see what she’s up to, but there’s no answer. The four of us take in the beautiful weather, and discuss politics in America and Sweden, and talk about what a nice day we’ve had. In between conversations, I practice my Swedish and learn more words from Dad and Gebba. They think I’m really good, but I still think I need a lot of work, despite being much better than I used to be.

The sun sets, and the temperature drops. We come inside to get a call back from Faster Mona. Mom answers and speaks with her for a while. She’s still coming down from the huge orchestration of the wedding. Dad leaves to help Gebba finish preparing dinner, and Mom hands the phone to me so I can talk to Julia. Since we didn’t really get the chance to talk much at the wedding, we talk a lot over the phone. I ask her about her and Tove’s honeymoon in Budapest, we talk about the Vikings show on the History channel and the jewelry they wear, we talk about me almost getting a tattoo in Norway but opting out because I didn’t like the artwork, and then I ask her what gift her and Tove got me for shooting their wedding- A set of really cool, Viking coffee cups. I love coffee, and I love Vikings. I love the mugs before I even know what they look like. We finish our conversation by Julia and Tove possibly visiting us again in California, and me making Julia sweat over baby questions now that she’s married. She played it cool, but dodged it.

After hanging up, Mom, Dad, Gebba and I sit down to a magnificent spread of Talgsten Biff. It’s essentially a meat plate, where you cook the meat and veggies on a hot stone, and incorporate sauces as dinner. I love eating at Gebba’s- it’s all meat, all the time, like a proper Viking, and I’m a meat eater. I’m in Heaven. ...Er, Valhalla.

The food is incredible, and I devour more than my stomach can handle. It’s just so mouthwatering and delicious, I can’t help myself. The thin slices of beef are my favorite with garlic butter and pepper sauce. I eat more than anyone at the table until my stomach physically hurts, (outwardly this time).

We eat until we can’t anymore, do the dishes, and enjoy our time in the living room. Mom and Gebba are going over photos from earlier today, and Dad and I settle in to watch a documentary about baby Roos in Australia.

Dad’s exhausted, and goes to bed right after. Mom, Gebba and I follow suit and aim for our beds. I'm too full to feel tired, so I lie awake for three more hours typing out my emails, and packing for tomorrow.

We leave in the morning to hopefully begin our journey home, from Östersund to Stockholm.