Coming from the garden, I felt kind of strange and then a unimportant tv spot - something with raisins – knocked me out and I felt completely off track. Because suddenly I remembered about how Jürgen and I stood in a bakery and I wanted to have an apple pie and he - completely unexpectedly - loudly screamed: "Ugh, there are raisins in - that will not enter my house " and we, as all other in-store were laughing out loud – every single person.
And then I see him, his eyes, while laughing fired a firework of light flashes and how he is always absorbed in these moments, in our moments. And I realize how much I miss him. I feel painfully clear, how many times I wake up at 6:30 am and my hand touched into the void, because he is not on my side, and gives me a goodbye kiss. I stare at my mountain of dishes, standing around for days, because somehow, I do not find the strength to wash it. And then I see him in my memories, that there was not one discussion possible about doing it one day later. And I see us tears laughing while standing in front of the sink, because a very thin plastic part has laid over the drain and both of us incredulously staring us, burrowing with four hands in the water, notice that the drain is away and asking ourselves, how that can be and where it is gone?
I am still waiting every day for the SMS asking what we will cook for dinner and I miss the sms in the morning, that says, "Enjoy Work Knuddels".
I ride alone on my scooter through the area and there is no one who firmly embraced me from behind. In the evening I take my place in the empty bed, on my side and my ears are searching the familiar silent breathing and I register that there is no him-smell any more. I sit every day in front of a carelessly done piece of bread, because I do not like cooking any more – before I wrote cooking books. It feels unnecessary and is not fun anymore. Sunday morning is like every day and there are no lovingly designed plates on the table. If I have visitors I wonder: how can you throw all the food just like that on the table – don´t you have a sense for the beauty of food?
Suddenly even Bärbel Schäfer, a radio talk master, we heard every Sunday for breakfast, is missing. I alone never listen to a radio. I leave my bedroom and see that I made the bed in the same manner as Jürgen has always done it. Earlier I have never made my bed. I run through the supermarket and avoid certain products because we always had them in our fridge. Today the cold creeps out of the empty compartments and spreads, somehow in my life. I'm so glad certain things are no longer in my life - but why for this price? And then, I sit on my couch, trying to eat and I must cancel a skype phone talk, in the middle of it, because I can not speak any more and the question “what is wrong with you” break all barriers and I sit for hours crying on my couch. His absence creates a noisy silence, which feels often worse, because I feel the accusatory silence around my life, my body, my thoughts, my everything . Then what happens: I get a call from a friend who says: “ Mario it was time that I finally call you, but I do not know what to say” and as a consequence of that, I sit for hours, howling and crying, because it means so much for me, that finally somebody cares about the situation and me. And because a phone call, poor on words, brings so much emotion, expresses so much between the lines and it doesn´t need a lot of words to express: I care for you, don´t do stupid things, it´s not worth.
And that closes at the end a circle, because so many months is was trying to achieve Jürgen, to reach people who might could have helped him and now I'm trying to reach people again. And way to often I do not succeed, even in the inner circle of my friends. But sometime I do – thanks God. I'm trying to attach no importance to that, as I try, and often successfully, to tell myself again and again, that it was Jürgens disease, that led him doing this last step. That's true - but it was the silence that hermetically shielded him too, which he could not break through and wanted it so much. And this silence is since then, in and around of my life, a threatening and hostile space. Because I miss him, because he is so often lacking, because the silence of his absence triggered Footpath of Life.
And that is why I am writing this. It is important that people read sometimes what happens, when someone takes his own life to those, who are left behind. How incredibly strong you have to be to go on day by day. Many can´t and they give up too. What an incredible strength it costs to put everything, which is moving myself, in a project, that has taken the goal, to create for each who is mourning a small place, to fill the silence of the space with the beauty of life and the magic of love, so that it can be an ever-growing and colorful future.
Feel free to share this and sorry for my poor English.
In any case, crazy enough to devote my life to a task that has become much more important to me than my home, my scooter and my garden. It is my life task, because a suicide kills us all in one way or another.
Above on this site you will find all the social networks I am in. It will be a major help if you connect with me in those networks.
I will use them to document my walk around the world. On youtube you will find weekly video documentations. On flicker I will do the daily photo documentary. The best pic of the day you will find on instagram and much more. Where I will write about the adventures is not sure yet.
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Please help with your friendship and sharings.
Thank you so much.