The new and the old generation

It's been so long since last time I captured some time in writing.
I don't want to write and report everything, but I do want to document my strongest emotional experiences.


A little boy took my hand and helped me pull my suitcase. It was in a street in northern Germany. His father ran and held his other hand, making sure we crossed the street safely. The little boy was 1,5 years old and he was most probably the reason why I stopped receiving birthday wishes from his father for the last 1,5 years. I knew something had changed, but I hadn't put everything together. The little boy was my first love's son. And he liked me. And he was a miniature of him. And he ripped my heart off, by taking my hand, helping me, sharing my ice-cream and showing me his skills on climbing. I just realised what I might be needing in my life, the unconditional love of a child. It's not that he would have made me happier than I am. I don't regret anything, I would have left at some point anyway. We are now miles apart in mind and soul. But the bond of someone having loved you so much and having loved them back is so hopeful, gives me courage and strength. She was a sweetheart as well, the mother of the little one and wife of the older one. They looked so happy. It felt to me that he was born to be a dad, to care about others and especially his child. He is a remarkable person and I feel lucky to have been loved and have loved him. We didn't do anything wrong. We just weren't meant for each other.

Like a scene from a movie this experience kept my head and heart busy for two days. But this feeling was too little compared to the pure pain I felt and still feel after Saturday, the 3rd of June.

"Grandma left." This is what my mother wrote in WhatsApp. "Don't you worry." Insane. How can she just write this. I assume it was her shock and her need to communicate it and get it out of her as soon as possible. "A part of me died." I told my friends. And I am wondering how can a part of me die and I can still be alive to feel the pain? I try to hold on to the sweetest of memories. Even her stubborness feels sweet and I miss it now. How can she be there one day, standing, smiling,  encouraging me, and the next day mom says she's gone. I didn't recognise her at the funeral. That body's face was empty, my grandma's face was always glowing when she saw me. I still am nor sure where she's gone, since what we burried that day, I cannot believe it was her. I couldn't touch her, I didn't want to feel she was cold. I just touched her fluffy haid and put my head on her new wooden bed for 2 seconds. My head was so heavy, it still is, it feels like it's going to blow when I think of her. Although I may be recovering very slowly, I still am so sad. How can I recover from my own death? I don't want to be reborn, I want to share with her my successes, my failures. I wish I could have said goodbye. I didn't know it the last time she kissed me that it would be the last time. I need time. Time with friends, time alone, time to work, time to dance, time to process and reflect. I cannot move on so fast, my world needs to slow down.

And writing this down helped me, even though it was painful. I have reached yet another catharsis.