I A year consists out of 365 days. If I were to say what I’ve been doing,
142 days ago, I couldn’t say. Our memory doesn’t save detailed
chronological data but mere events or experiences. But if I were to say
what I did on the 16th of March 2001, I could explain it in such a
great depth of detail that it would feel as close as yesterday.
On that day, suddenly and out of nowhere, my dad died due to a heart-attack.
I still can smell the fresh taste of the arriving spring in the air, I
still can see the medics standing in our house, I still can hear my
crying mom lying on the couch having been given drugs so she could
relax.
Abrupt incidents, especially if around the topic of death and disease,
hit extraordinary hard; there’s no time to get used to the situation,
there’s no time to say goodbye, there’s no time to ask those questions
one can never ask again, there’s no time to process the incidents.
And thus, there was no time.
When I reached home I was left with the dead body of my father; I
talked to him, I kissed him, I cried, I hoped he would all of a sudden
open his eyes again, coming back to life, I thought I’d feel his
presence. But in the end I was all alone, confused, broken and hopeless.
There are so many things I’d like to ask my dad now.
There are so many things I’d like to tell my dad now.
There are so many things I’d like to do with my dad now.
And yes, if I see other people of my age go to an event with their
dads, or getting help from their dads, or just talking about their
family, I can’t but feel a bit envious.
The times after fathers death were quite tough, I fell into a box of
cold water and had to mature as fast as possible; suddenly being left
alone with my mom and my grandma, I needed to take care of all these
tasks which were previously fathers tasks. Those days were so tough and
busy that I had to lock my sadness inside, keep it calm until I would
find the free time I needed to process them.
But this free time never came. And during the first 4 years, I wasn’t
able to process these inputs, I could never really sorrow after my dad.
Now, 5 years later, I miss my dad, I feel that there is so much I could
have gained from him. But this void in me needs to stay, reminiscenting
me of him. However, I can talk about it now. I can write on this blog
about it now. I can accept the situation now. Buddha said that ‘Life is
Pain’, and maybe he is right in that pain is a vital part of our
existence. I think I understood.
With the advent of the fifth year of his death, I also arrived at a
point in my life which calls for changes. In the coming months, the
life which I lived during the past 5 years, will change. Quite. I’m
looking forward to this. I am to close a chapter.
In germany it’s common to write a special phrase onto a card which is
then being handed out to every visitor of the funeral. One usually
tries to find a phrase which is religious and/or fits the
situation/lost one very well.
We wrote the following lines onto my dad’s funeral-card:
“No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die
away – until the clock he wound up winds down, until the wine he made
has finished it’s ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested.
The span of someone’s life, is only the core of their actual existence”
And thus, although my dad died, he continues to exist – through his lifework, through memories, and – through me.
→ Frank said on March 16th, 2006 at 12:13 pm
terhechte
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger ..
I believe it’s true .. I haven’t had a pain like this kind yet, and I’m grateful for that, but with Anay’s mom, I’ve bin very close to a situation like that .. And felt the pain it brought ..
The forced evolving pushed your natural growth aside, but once you get back on the level of having peace with it, you might also noticed that it helped you develop abilities you probably otherwise wouldn’t have had in that same time span.
Things that haven’t been said, asked or shown to a person, it feels ackward … But I assume the people that really love you feel the things you felt at a certain stage in life. And even though people are gone, it does not make the feelings you have about them less true, if you maybe never got the chance to tell them .. We always need to have a ‘public physical action’ before we acknowledge the feelings we wanted to share, but sometimes one can look in someones eyes and know the naked truth without sharing a word. It’s not a missed chance the way I see it .. It’s just never spoken out loud. But that doesn’t make your feelings less true ..
I hope you will look back in another five years, feeling accomplished, more mature and happy about the choices you made, the new people you met and the knowlegde you’ve won ..
Leaving traces .. Good luck man ..
→ Markus said on March 16th, 2006 at 11:27 pm
terhechte
Ich habe diesen Kommentar jetzt ca. 10 mal neu angefangen.
Der Grund dafür ist das, so denke ich, das ich wie wohl die meisten Menschen dem Tod eher ohnmächtig gegenüberstehe.
Ich will nicht irgendwas sagen nur um überhaupt etwas zu sagen, aber es dennoch nicht unkommentiert lassen. Denn es ist mir sicherlich alles andere als egal!
In meinem letzten Kommentar habe ich geschrieben: “Sich zu erinnern, ist der Grund warum man lebt glaube ich manchmal!” Das trifft hier viel mehr zu als bei allem anderen.
Dieses Gedicht kenne ich durch die Sabi, Sie hat es nach dem Tod ihres Vaters von einem Verwandten bekommen. Evtl. magst du es ja:
Der Tod hat keine Bedeutung -
ich bin nur nach nebenan gegangen.
Ich bleibe, wer ich bin,
und auch Ihr bleibt dieselben.
Was wir einander bedeuteten, bleibt bestehen.
Nennt mich bei meinem vertrauten Namen.
Sprecht in der gewohnten Weise mit mir
und ändert Euren Tonfall nicht!
Hüllt Euch nicht
in Mäntel aus Schweigen und Kummer.
Lacht wie immer
über die kleinen Scherze, die wir teilten.
Wenn Ihr von mir sprecht, so tut es ohne Reue
und ohne jegliche Traurigkeit.
Leben bedeutet immer nur Leben
- es bleibt so bestehen, immer -
ohne Unterbrechung.
Ihr seht mich nicht,
aber in Gedanken bin ich bei Euch.
Ich warte eine Zeit lang auf Euch
- irgendwo, ganz in der Nähe -
nur ein paar Straßen weiter.
Henry Scott-Holland
———————————
Ich hoffe ihr hattet einen Tag voller Erinnerungen!
Grüß mir deine Mum!
Markus
→ Ambro said on March 17th, 2006 at 7:05 pm
kleine erkenntnisse
Ich werde mir soeben erst bewusst, dass das Zeitfenster, nachdem dein Vater gestorben ist und du bei Netside angefangen hast, extrem klein ist. So bewusst ist mir das eigentlich bisher nicht gewesen, obwohl wir darüber geredet haben. Es komplettiert das Bild und bringt mich erneut dazu meinen Hut vor dir zu nehmen.
Und du hast Recht, dein Vater hat ein Echo hinterlassen und wenn er es wüsste… ich denke er wäre stolz.
→ name said on March 17th, 2006 at 9:58 pm
terhechte
@markus:
Danke für ein Gedicht.. ich fand’ es wirklich toll, habe es auch meiner Mutter vorgelesen (gleich nachdem ich sie von dir gegrüßt hatte) und es hat sie auch tief bewegt.. musste es ihr sogar ausdrucken
Den Mantel aus Schweigen und Kummer hinter sich zu lassen ist schwierig, das weiss ich jetzt aus eigener Erfahrung.. aber möglich. Wobei meine Mutter noch lange nicht soweit ist.. wenn man die Liebe seines Lebens verliert.. diese Wunde läßt sich nicht wieder schliessen.
@Ambro:
Danke. Mehr fällt mir da garnicht ein.
→ Much Ado About Blogging » Blog Archive » Me in a YearBook said on August 19th, 2008 at 11:18 pm
[...] my results below, click for a larger version. It’s interesting to note that the 1956 looks so much like my father that I almost got goosebumps upon first [...]