Desk of the day

Your tombstone

Here are the first sketches of the stonemason. I went there one sunny afternoon all by myself, Tonie was with the sitter and I just thought... let's get this done. I cried for the following two days.

We have chosen a big family grave for you under a beautiful birchtree. We had something very clean in mind for you. A beautiful off-white stone, beige maybe, with a blue inscription. The stonemason suggested a singular boulder. But all 3 of us don't think it would suit you. So we kind of have a group of stones in mind. Your stone and three other stones, framing you. And maybe, one day, those stones can be ours. One for each of your kids. Who knows. But at least this way you'll know, we are always with you. 

The pictures I didn't take

One of my greatest regrets is not having taken enough pictures of you during your last weeks. As we knew you would die. Sometimes I secretly took Iphone recordings of your voice while we had a few of our last every day conversations. But it just isn't enough. If I was in the sam e situation today I would take pictures and videos of you all the time - ALL THE F... TIME. But in reality I simply didn't want to stick a camera into your face, reminding you constantly that your life was ending any day. However, it makes me so very, very sad. I wish for so much more of you, so much more I could hold on to. I don't even have one perfect image of you, me and Tonie, us three together. 

I thought about getting lights and everything up once. All of us were there, brothers, nieces, Tonie and Tom. But I just couldn't. I didn't feel like it, couldn't face it. I will regret it forever.

What difference does it make? The important images are in my head and this longing for pictures of you wouldn't fill the emptiness and yearning inside myself. Smush, sappy, teardrops, blah!

Just another loss. I love you. And in the end what does it matter, I have all the memories I need in my heart.

My earliest memories

1972 with W

Tonight Tonie and I had the funniest night. I was carrying her on my arms and "fake-bumping" her head into every wall, dresser and door. She laughed her tiny head off. A sore little head it is. She has a cold since yesterday. Her voice is an all muffled toddler sexy voice. She realises it herself and sometimes makes strange sounds testing it.

I was about five and you chased me and my brother through the entire apartment. You'd washed your hair and combed it over your face and behaved like a monster! We hid beneath Dad's desk and laughed like crazy. It was rare that you were so inhibited and ridiculously funny. It is one of my earliest memory of you and a very cherished one. Lots of love from here.

The graveyard bully is back!

And now she demands where your tombstone is and why it takes us so long to get it down and onto your grave! Thank you very much. I thought about deleting the graveyard bully post from a few weeks ago but now I won't!

Exclamation mark!

Really this tombstone thing breaks my heart. I hate the idea of putting a block of stone on top of you, it makes it so horribly real. Again. I should know you are dead and it's final. But death is the one thing we don't understand and I don't understand. The tombstone feels like the last... last.... last... whatever I just dont't feel like talking to the stonemason again even if she's great and very soothing and empathic.

So keep out of it, bully! I don't give a shit whether you think there is an etiquette of the dead and if you are bothered by the gravestone-lessness of Mum's grave. Especially as my Mum never cared about her grave, she only cared about her instant cremation and her memorial which you didn't attend, because you were in Spain for a couple of days and for you as a catholic "a memorial is not important, the burial is important". I don't think it is a very respectful thing to say, if these were my Mum's last wishes.

Arghh! I sound like ranting but really, it makes me cry and suffer and feel small. I hate it.

Desk of the Day

My dearest Momanimal,

I was about to stop addressing you directly and suddenly the past days were so very rough and raw. I missed you desperately. I wonder.

Anyway. The pebbles. They are a story by themselves. One I tried to write but I simply can not, yet. So I stopped trying. I collected them 4 days before you died, knowing you had drifted away.

Up, up, up. The sun finally shows after weeks and weeks of rain. Or so it seems. I hear the lawnmovers everywhere around us as today is the first dry day. I love you. I miss you. It would be the greatest if you could come back.