June 06, 2014

on unexpected colors and shades


The Fishbowl has me back. After days in the South of Germany, after many hours with my family, even more emotions, and a funeral in the middle of a beautiful forest, I am back in Berlin. Mouring the loss of a loved one is a rather private and an individual process, so I will not go there beyond a certain comfort zone. As it is not only my heart involved.

My father has been really ill for many years, a lot of them almost unconcious, so he wasn't present as a father in our daily routines. He was there in our thoughts and for the ones taking care of him, he was the center, but in a very different way. Over the years I've said Goodbye to him for many times. There have been many tiny moments, when I've secretely waved to him as a father, telling him that it is alright to go. Though I knew of the loss and the pain this would cause, I so wished for him that his suffering might end and he could be free.

Still, when driving home, somewhere in the middle of a crowded highway, the radio was playing a song from my teenage years, it struck me. Like a stone thrown at me, lightning flashing up in front of my inner eye: This is the end of my childhood. Well, in the middle of my Fourties I am no child anymore anyway, but suddenly a deep, deep sadness and a little panic crawled up my throat, while digesting the thought of an area ending. I've tried to shake it of, to think of something else, but since this certain moment out there, riding the brown beast, this idea constantly follows me. This is the end of my childhood.

I am still not sure what this means. And it still comes with a good dose of panic, but also with an unexpected strength. A strength that I have never felt before. I am tired from the last two weeks, of course, but something inside of me is focused on happiness. On not letting time pass without doing things I really want. Being with people I feel at home with. And following my path with a more clear and distinct attitude. This is the end of my childhood. Maybe endings are beginnings.





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