Days of valediction
Tears are flowing down my cheeks, while a heartbreaking sob, encompassing all pain in this world and slowly crippling my chest, creeps up and I finally agonizingly expel it out into the world. My heat, broken a thousand times over, beats persistently in my chest, although I was 1000% sure that it had turned to stone.
Even weeks after your natural burial I ask myself how life should go on. Lenny, how could this happen? Where are you now?
The most wonderful memories of our time together race through my head…testosterone-loaded turf wars, long nights, car races and thrilling adventures with women. Our friendship was so special, full of mutual and unconditional trust. We relished life; no one even came close to us. How often did we show my can opener, Adam, what a real tomcat is capable of? We laughed in the wind, inhaling a deep breath of lavender and Dreamies.
Life was so wonderfully uncomplicated with you. And now? My days have been passing as if in slow motion. Adam honestly made a lot of effort to distract me but how can the thought that you are now the brightest star in heaven help when tears are fogging my view and I am missing you so much? Now and then I sat at the computer and looked for comfort in bereavement websites, but the very noise of the computer booting up upset me. I finally sat down in a trance at the table and used the pen to express in writing the pain of your loss. When I had finished writing our story, I tied a black satin bow around it, lay down on the sofa and fell into a deep, all encompassing sleep.
When I woke again, days must have passed, because I first had to try to find my orientation, had insufferable bad breath and my stomach was rumbling strongly. So I plundered the fridge, just like in the old days, had a luxurious bubble bath and cleaned my pearly whites. Hard to believe, but I felt better. Now I wanted to finish the affair and to burn my grief in a ritual-like act involving a gigantic fire. This was the only way to finally be able to concentrate on focusing on the future again. I would send our story, which had now been committed to paper, to a publisher, who would rip the bestseller out of my hands.
The reason for things turning out differently can be put down to the fact that my story did not exactly shed the best light on my can opener. At some point when I was asleep he must have found the text and in a rage threw it across the terrace, above my head into the gigantic bonfire in the garden. I was stunned! Again I let a heart-wrenching scream, but this time it was anger and I cold-bloodedly took it out on my can opener. When he came out of hospital a few days later, I had already dictated everything onto a dictaphone and he was able to begin typing my book into the computer using his eagle eyed search system.
Death is the horizon in our lives, but the horizon is only the end of our perspective. I had finally turned the corner; I was almost back to my old self and was looking forward again! Old friend, you will remain unforgotten in my heart and I will dedicate the bestseller to you, I promise!
Illustration Copyrights: Manuela Dona