27-09-2004

The worst cries have become silent, but I fear the worst shock is yet to come. Isn’t it always thus with conflicts such as this, I wonder? And that’s all I can do, note, for I’ve never myself entertained such a piece of news myself, nor have the greater desire to receive it, ever. Her mother, of course, takes it the hardest. “Of course”: She’s forever holding on to her idea of a perfect piece of family-pie, and now that her first-born – the love of her life, for all I gather – is no longer with us, she suffers unspeakably. Her family-pride has suffered an unamendable(?) blow, and I very much doubt she’ll recover from it. Or her/their marriage, along with it. The girlfriend finds herself in the middle of all of it, and I really want her back from Funen at the very soonest possible moment. She’s reminded of her always coming second to her brother, the family pride, the man supposed to bring forth the family name. What her mother wants is to have her son back, of course it is – but she finds V there, and even if that’s sufficient to nourish her family sentiments for the short time being, inevitably it’s not going to be enough, she’ll lapse into her old, familiar theme. From there onwards it’s a downward tale. There is nothing can be done for her; it’s in her spine. But V’s another matter, and I thank you, Dear Lord, for her having born our daughter before all of this came to be. How long will it be before all hell breaks loose, I estimate a fortnight at the most. All practicalities appertaining to the funeral and such have run dry, so will the tears soon, also, and the bitterness and anger and hatred, violent words and haunted dreams escapes when that happens. ~~~ Have an urge to call sis (tried, actually, on twice occasions but failed to reach her, busy girl), and set something up. Ages and ages ago, ‘s how it feels, but of course ’twas but three weeks ago, at my surprise-party. But, still… Three weeks. If she wasn’t there tomorrow, how would I feel? I haven’t been very good at maintaining the contact, but then she’s not chatting me up every other day, is she. In many ways (or; exactly the same) it’s the kind of relationship Vibeke had with her departed brother, therefore my haste in the matter. It is, of course, rubbish. God’s will be done, and all of that. We can’t live our life around the fear of letting our loved ones out of our sights, of the possibility of never seeing them again. Sad but true; it’s a fragile life we lead, and even on borrowed time. Still it’s not the bargain-deal I make it sound like. It’s the greatest of wonders. And surely to be honored by living it, not counting on it to end. So will be sure to reach her tonight, talk for a helluva long time about the preceeding days’ incidents and lastly about nothing at all, just for the hell of it. And trust her to live her life to the extend she finds the best, same as I. ~~~ Have an urge, also, to buy a camcorder and record everything I do. For the sake of keep-sakes, i.e. Then I stop and reconsider, notably in lue of these pages and all the digital photography I’ve accomplished, lately. Enough memories to go round, I should think. Being, naturally, mistaken: there can never be enough. To a one who’s lost a brother, a wife, a child, there can never be enough words or images. Too few memories. We walk this Earth and leave these trails behind, at times I’m sure those left behind are better off with fewer clues and their use of their imagination, rather than facts and figures on paper. “Did he know about his serious illness, or did he not?”. I enjoy the memories as well as any one else, this diary should be proof enough of this. But I will not write these words, or collect those photos, out of fear of departing this World. (Joyful) Memories are primarily for their instigators(?) to ponder upon and smile about. If they should provide comfort for those who may mourn the lost one who’s left them behind, so much the better, they will have accomplished their task more than once. To deliberately add to the collection of fear of having too few when more would do better, well that’s simply to foresee – and more than likely accomplish by self-fullfillment – unhappiness. Truly wonderous memories come to us when we do not come to them. The images will linger with us, and no sizeable chunk of time may relieve us of them. Thinking back, most magnificient memories instantly appear before yours truly, and I sure as shit wasn’t thinking “I gotta keep this, I gotta keep this” at the time of their birth. ~~~ Spending the later afternoon in Soroe. “At home”, testing that concept. Won’t do the girlfriend much good coming back at first, later she’ll fare better. So will put up the last cabinets, put together the final shelf, clean up the place as best I can. Scores of things to do, in time she’ll have a better place to come home to compared to the one she left. Will put on music; haven’t listened to music for ages, why not. Rest my mind of all the emotions it’s been banged up against, this past week and a half. But let me not make it out as if I’m in the worst pain, this now. So many have been affected by this, by this World’s loss of this amicable(?) man whom I met only briefly but liked much. Those closer to him will find reason to relive the pain of losing him, over and over again, for the many months’ to come. I do not envy them, but they surely have my sympathy, all of them. V most of all; she was perhaps closer to him, closer than everybody else? But she’s given to tend to her mother, notably, provide diplomacy between said woman and her father. What can I do but urge her away as soon as possible, so as to give thought to herself, her own emotions in the matter? ~~~ Tomorrow Tuesday. Am hoping for a quiet day.

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