Farewells, too many

 

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...

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. 

Hans Lenk, 1935-2024

 

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. 

Looking out over the lake from a different angle.

 

The Eight that went on to win the Olympic gold medal in Rome

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.

"All my Blues" is taking all my blue spinning fibers,
these two bobbins remain to be plied.

The next spinning project in preparation: "All my Reds"

The towel somewhat slanted, growing slowly,
with a few more mistakes incorporated.

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.