Maybe it is a day of memories, but it is because of ‘Ragib’ and the book I read that I write . I don’t know why being creative (it is about writing) brings up the question of response. What I have experienced so far is that always the wrong identify themselves with the output of others. It is a complex moment to express oneself and the identification lies within. ‘Ragib’ (or former Kerstin) is nothing else than the sum of memories of a specific person in my life, it is the utmost self. Me. Even when my name appears to be several, there won’t be any other who could write this. Like it is said in my book I read, that being a person is not a pat formula, but a quest, a mystery, a leap of faith.
This is a criticism on the german word ‘Opfer’, because it means sacrifice and victim at the same time. Till now noone ever tried to solve this. And with Walther’s death, I remember also somebody telling me about ‘Opfer’. He said: There are creatures born as ‘Opfer’ and they don’t feel pain. This happened in 2006 and I still think about it. I try to understand what he wanted to explain. Was he religious? I didn’t ask. Did he want to sooth my pain? I didn’t ask. After he said that I couldn’t hear him anymore. Why? I can tell you why.
In some lifes a moment occurs between life and an imagination of death and one wakes up with a thick long red snake hanging from his nose to his knees. The pain raises the roof, warps through the body and screams in the back of the head. Still, one is watching to secure the inner world while one side slips away. I am watching this little mouse in my hand, a memory again. Walther caught it in the backyard and tried to eat it with his old teeth, not sharp enough to kill it. After playing for a while I took the mouse, actually to save it. ‘To save it’ – what a paradox. How could I save this mouse, while thinking of its pain and death.
Memories are so strong. Sometimes it is hard to go on without being reminded of a lovely being who disappeared in the afterworld. It is like a phantom for a visit who brought some grief like a bouquet of flowers in different colors, so vivid. Grief which altered through time and immingled with other memories and a wish to make it not-happened or unreal.
Lying in bed – thinking for the first time coming back from a journey without having to pick up Walther somewhere.
Saw him on the terrasse – He had a stroke in his left hindleg, or maybe it was the paralyzing pain caused by his kidneys. Or did he fell?
He tried to run towards me – i was sitting there, looking at him – couldn’t believe what was coming next.
He fell – He fell on his tooth, on his beautiful long vampire tooth.
I took him on my lap – he was so dizzy from the pain. I really didn’t know what to do. How could I help? How? And what would I do with some magic? For just a moment when I tried to change my thoughts, the moment I could let go, I felt his last three heartbeats and the wish ‘Take me with you.’ Few days later I had a stroke and nine years to this moment.
listen carefully to the pain,
while we are here.
together we will be.
– again I tell
listen, listen carefully to the wind
while we are lying on the ground
together we will be one
While others can so easily stamp on one’s memories, regardless of their own to come, the real Unreal appears.
in remembrance of Walther, my precious – died in November 2006
We can’t go back in time to change nor delete memories.
Then Nebuchadnezzar the king was astonished and rose up and spake:
Did we not cast three men bound into the midst of fire?
Lo, I see four men loose, walking in the midst of the fire, and they have no hurt, and the form of the fourth is like the son of God… Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego who hath sent his angel, and delivered his servants that trusted him.
Quote from – In search of the eleventh insight – by Redfield, Book Daniel