Father

 

How many times have I imaged this call over the last 20 years, how will I feel, so far away. How will it be traveling for 16 hours? Arriving exhausted? Dealing with the funeral arrangements? Facing my mom and her grief?  Thank you adrenaline! 

 

When it came, I knew, 

I had not slept well in the night. Nevertheless, time changes, reality changes, another universe opens up when death happens. 

 

My father has died.

He had been suffering from Dementia for about 5 years, but in the last couple of month it has become to much for my mom and he had to be transferred into a full time care facility,  a unit for people with Alzheimer and Dementia. When visiting the unit, I told myself, he didn't know anymore where he was, to comfort myself.

Yes, he could no longer express himself, but was he aggressive because of it? I don't know, and I don't want to go down this road, to slippery, to dangerous for my mental health. 

 

After visiting the Alzheimer/Dementia unit, I felt deep pain and fear, I needed to get out, walk in the soft rain. Wanting to walk fast, breath hard, feel, I am still living. Walk and forget the woman holding on to me with her panic, while walking up and down the corridor. 

 

Breathing air, fresh air, 

defying aging,

walking fast, see I can still  

arrogant

however, I was already an hour older,

every second aging me

the unit a memory 

I am bound to forget.

 

The corridor, white, up and down, like ghosts, the people walk. My Dad, his spirit still sticks to these walls. 

Another man is in the room my Dad occupied, he doesn't look good, how long will he still have to suffer?

 

 When I was in Germany, my care was with my mom, making sure she is alright and are able to continue on. She is, she always was a survivor, what strength.

 

 

  

The Life that could have been

I have been reflecting on my parents and my mortality and have come to the conclusion that I need to prepare myself in any way I can for the unavoidable in life - death or dieing. I will keep you posted on how I make out.
I have looked at my father's life and created some mono-prints and woodcuts. Let me know what you think. When I read it to my partner she went, "Oh, it is great, but so dark". So, here it goes.

The Life that could have been

Hungary in the late 1920’s, twins are born. 

The father, a loyal country man, the mother not well,

something to do with the heart and the lung.

There was one more brother, however, he died.

Also his mother and his twin brother died - He was alone with his father. 

His father took another wife, and the twin became one of many -twelve half-brothers and sisters.

The Second World War broke out,

 the twin was too young to take part in the fighting,

 he had his own war to fight;

his father defended their home country.

 Defeated ,they were deported from Hungary to Germany.

The twin was a young man by now, what is in his future?

What kind of life can he expect, having experienced the amount of lose he had felt?

Striving  toward security;

he needed possessions  -

identified himself through his possessions.

He was a sensitive young man,

but was there place in his life for this sensitivity.

Hurt by life,

abandoned by his mother,

 not protected by his father –

while feeling alone within the crowed of his half-brothers and half-sisters.

What could have been?

 A twin celebrating his sensitivity, trusting in life and the goodness of people.

Creating meaningful relationships with his children, friends, and half-sisters and brothers.

 Understanding that possessions are not what a person is remembered by.

Taking life by its handkerchief and swirling it flamboyantly around,

 but how could he?

 With his heart filled with sadness and not understanding.

Now, he is living his life out with a diagnosis of Dementia,

 remembering his early years with tears in his eyes.

How hard life can be.