Farewell, B.

by mrblueheart

I remember, when I was a little boy, you lived just upstairs, and in the mornings, I always ran up to your apartment and we sat there and you gave me potatoes and roasted bacon, I loved that. And then I played with that tiny pocket knife, a blue enamel one, or built trailers and castles with all those handkerchief packets of yours. Your favorite story about me, and you never got tired telling it, was when I one morning came stormed up to your place and just asked when do you die, already? You smiled, your warm, mild smile, and just asked why. Because then I can have that knife! That’s what you promised me, and I was about three years old, rather younger. by then, you were already over seventy, but I never realized that you always have been old, for my entire life, older than many people ever get. You never seemed old, always had something about you, some curiosity, the way you fashioned your white hair, the way you dressed, and walked, and how you used to joke about those old people that were thirty years younger than you – remember complaining about your carer company at your ninety fifth birthday, that wanted to go to bed at five and you had your cake on your own with a glass of the wine you loved, laughing about those lame old birds. Now you made it, the last years must have been less than ok for you, little fighter, little bird. All your friends and siblings long gone, too old, too tired, too slow to go again to the places you wanted to, some strokes, but still, when you saw me, you turned up to old beauty, old fashion again, even in a wheelchair. The last time I saw you, in the end we brought you to bed, and I watched you fall asleep – a beautiful goodbye, a beautiful farewell. And when you slept away last night, it must have been a great relief for you, finally going, reuniting with all your loved ones long gone. Bear them my love and kisses, tell them, I miss them all. And I’ll miss you. Isn’t it ironic that we most likely miss most of the people when they are gone forever? Tears fall, not only mine, while your soul gets liftet up, to that place where all souls go, back to where we all come from, energy and love. Thank you for everything you gave me. Now farewell, little bird, finally fly and roam free again.

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