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Waiting for a train last Saturday I strolled around Hambur harbor for a little bit. Remembering the concert in Elbphilharmonie that was interrupted by a fire alarm - and today I saw that that had happened again...
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It’s all
been a bit much lately, as I already wrote about a little while ago. So far, it
hasn’t exactly eased up. The weekend before last brought two decisive farewells
to go through. Either of which would
have been enough on its own, but both of them within less than 24 hours, and in
the wake of all that’s going on…
The first
one was the last and final farewell to my father, who had peacefully passed
after four long and hard months in hospital.
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Hans Lenk, 1935-2024
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We took him to his hometown to be
buried in a site where he looks across the lakes that were so important in his
life as a rowing champion, right next to the church where my parents were
married.
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Looking out over the lake from a different angle.
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The Eight that went on to win the Olympic gold medal in Rome
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As sad an occasion as it was, the whole family agreed that it was a
very comforting get together, to see each other after sometimes many years.
The next
farewell, on the morning after the funeral, was to send my son off to college.
The original plan had been that I would have driven him to Amsterdam and set
him up in his dorm. As plans had to be changed and I had to go back to work on
Sunday, that was not feasible for me, instead, my husband took him there and
then continued home on his own. He did a lot of driving that day! (I had told
him to stop and check into a hotel along the way, which he didn’t, just
catching a bit of sleep in the back of the van and then continuing on, so I’m
afraid I don’t really need to feel very sorry for him.)
Hard to say
which one of the farewells is more difficult to deal with.
I feel immense
relief that my father has been spared further suffering and treatments in the
hospital, or even the care-taking situation he might (most certainly would) have
found himself in had his weakened heart not finally given up. And I feel rage
at all the back and forth he had to go through for almost four months when
doctors kept operating on him, he was being shoved back and forth between
various hospital wards and receiving more and more antibiotics that weakened
his body and enabled an infection to grow so they could not get it under
control in the end. It’s bitter to have seen a strong, successful, smart and
intelligent person like him diminished into the weak, suffering and sometimes
deranged vegetable that he was during his last weeks. And I question the ethics
of modern-day medical technology and their ‘let’s do this and try that’,
putting elderly people through ordeals that yes, perhaps increase their life
span by sheer number, but at what cost of quality of life? (I also see this at
work, every single day, and I have had several people my father’s age and older
talking to me with tears in their eyes at what was happening to them and why
did they have to go through this – well, at least my father was spared their
specific kind of medical ordeal. Which doesn’t make it any easier.)
On the
other hand, my son, a grown young man now, taking off into the big adventure of
studying, moving to a different country, setting out to conquer the world. His
arrival in my life happened when we had given up hope that we would be able to
have a child – and then the miracle happened after all, completely natural, and
he was a fun and vivacious boy with a strong personality, a compulsive and
recognizable laughter and a charming personality.
Yes, some issues between
headstrong mother and headstrong boy, but no drug incidences (at least none
that I heard of), and he spared us the possibility of the tattoo he and his
friends were talking about just before their last joint vacation venture (they
came back with ugly crew-cut kind of haircuts, which, thankfully will grow out
before they grow seriously older). He was a fun kid to have, and as I have been
noticing that the covid-lockdown-induced-sullenness seems to be lifting somewhat he has
recently been developing into a very amiable youngster, I have also been
hearing such appreciative things about him from outside that it truly has given
me joy. Even if sometimes parents wish the children would act differently at
home, it seems he has been doing just fine outside the house, and what else
does one want? I did not get to take him to Amsterdam, but first reports have
been positive and buoyant, and we are optimistic that he will find his way.
He left behind
his piggy bank into which he had been depositing his small coins.
I sorted
through that heap of change, differentiating between 10- and 20-cent coins (my
pocket), 5-cent coins (counting towards my next visit to the Munich Readery
bookstore for second hand English books) and the 1- and 2-cent coins I will dump
into the coin-collector at the local supermarket where the amount will be
deducted from your next bill. The pig itself was mine, anyway, which he claimed
at some point. It has lost its belly-button-stopper and I need to find a
replacement for that, but I suppose I can now claim it back, for a while at
least.
I admit,
these farewells have left me frequently welling up in tears lately. Still
packing up the house – my desk and more of my sewing room are next and highly
urgent now. Creativity is still on the back burner, only infrequently do I find
time and leisure to sit down and ‘make’. A bit of knitting here, a bit of spinning there.
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"All my Blues" is taking all my blue spinning fibers, these two bobbins remain to be plied.
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The next spinning project in preparation: "All my Reds"
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The towel somewhat slanted, growing slowly, with a few more mistakes incorporated.
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But I have
challenges coming up that I can at least think about and do a little bit of
research for. I have been invited to become part of the group ‘Voyage’, which
was a pleasant experience. Depending on how quickly I manage to unpack my stuff
at the new place after our move at the end of September I may join in with
their planned exhibition for March/April (although that would mean a pretty tight
timeline for completing the quilt). And there are two more pieces to be made
for the current theme of 20 Perspectives.
Life goes
on, despite farewells (more coming up, but those won't be as significant as these recent ones) and difficult times.