Buried next to his loving wife

For now, we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

  “First Letter to the Corinthians, chapter 13, verses 12 to 13. Let us pray together, my son” “No, thank you, Reverend” I said and nodded to him, “… that’s all. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone with him for a moment” “Of course, my son” he nodded and the priest retreated. I stood in front of the hole in which the wood of the coffin would carry the weight of the earth over it until it would finally rot and give in. The pinewood sucked the sun in. A bright glow in the black earth. I threw the flowers in the hole. They landed on the lid of the wooden box. My mother’s sweethearts and the only ones who grew in our garden. I looked at the blue heads of the flowers, said nothing and let the birds speak. I listened to the screaming for a while until I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I should say something, but I don’t know what. Thanks for letting me stay with you, I guess” I paused and looked at the tombstone.  “And thank you for waiting…” I nodded to the gravediggers and they buried the pine coffin under the black earth. I stood there and watched as the earth had filled every inch of the grave, the dirt deformed, and I thought that soon the bald spot would have disappeared, grown over by grass. It was over. All these years buried under a tombstone. I did not smile; no stone fell from my chest and not even the deep breath I took made me understand where I was standing. The grave of a tormentor, a preacher, a blind believer, a hermit, a chauvinist, a saint, a rock in the surf, a clown, a monster, a human being, but also the grave of my father, a married, widowed and an old man. My eyes got stiff. My inside should be cooking. It was supposed to dance all night because my greatest wish had come true. Why didn’t I feel anything? When I entered the hospital room after all this time, I felt more than at that moment. Curiosity about how it would go on. The anticipation of closing a long chapter that I hadn’t expected to be able to put behind me at all. Did my father love me? If you ask everyone else, they will say no, but I’m sure he loved me as a child. In the blows, the fear was probably buried that he could pamper me otherwise. After he stopped, I don’t know. We’ve always been strangers. That was as much his fault as mine. I didn’t want to know this man because I thought I already knew him. Now he probably stopped because we didn’t work out. I didn’t dare to say that he gave me up after that. It didn’t make any difference. All that was gone. Lays with him under the bare spot and the plans I sketched in my head as a child were now possibilities that were given to me. I imagined what the next one might be. Of course, I wondered if too much time had passed to start again. Who knows, he was underground now, and I needed a drink. Before I could agree on anything, one hand grasped my shoulder. “You look like shit,” she said with a shy smile. “And you’ve become an old woman” Martina grinned briefly to show that her pouting was just foolishness. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I wasn’t really planning on staying long” “But you should. You haven’t been here a day for FIVE YEARS. Stay at least another week. Tell me about your time as a vagabond” “As a vagabond?” “You look like one” “Twice at the look in a row? Shall I put that in context with your age again?” “You’re an asshole” “As I’ve always been”  

1500x500_bg_white < Previous Chapter: Salvation in projection; the young never learn, if not by themselves.
> Next Chapter: Five years after I left her, and not a single one too soon.

– First Chapter: The Romans Would Have Eaten Fries

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