Mud

How I despise the words of those who accused me of being happy
Accused as if it was simply a mark given by birth
Accused as if it was simply a seed of luck growing on my earth
Accused, accused, accused as if it was not me who turned happy
But happiness turned to me

Mud, mud, mud it was
Mud all over me

How I despise the words of those who accused me of being happy - as if by chance
Judgements of those too blind to see - kings and queens of ignorance
Bathing in the velvet throne of comfort, in a dark room separated from hope
Surrounded by a wall built by the sad remains of the hand cut last rope
Efforts unborn, already dead
Buried deep in muddy earth, left alone, they fled
Their hands seemed clean from mud, but their skin was dyed in red

Mud, mud, mud it was
Mud all over me

It was at dawn when fear came over you
When shadows grew tall and sight was taken from you to seek truth
When roads behind you suddenly disappeared
And in a starless night the endless unknown neared

It was at night when mud grabbed your feet
When each step ahead was one step too deep
When happiness you thought you know well
Was made of words you could not spell

And while you buried hope right there and then
I walked the road not knowing of its end
I walked the road in darkness, blind and by myself
With no hand to hold and fear my only friend

I sank, I sank, I sank my friend
Buried in mud, I died, it was an end
But darkness passed like a seasons change
My skin a crispy desert, newborn and strange

Murder, you who killed your spirit
An empty shell of life is what remained!
You who dress in life and judge is you who should be ashamed.

It is the mud that is my happiness
My hands are dirty for everyone to see
I am life - not more not less
The mud all over me.

Papi

Forever with Us - Forever with You

Special thanks to Alexo Wandael

Puzzle

More than 10 years have passed since I lost my Loved One to one of the two consequences of life - its ending. Some of them passed like a blink of an eye, too fast to notice, others dragged on like a dreadful disease with no cure known of but time and patience to soothe only the symptoms. And even now, more than 10 years later, I catch myself every now and then looking for bits and pieces of him within others who are still alive and amongst the world I live in.

Knowing I would never find him in one piece here again, I started a never-ending puzzle called Dad.

The stranger who walked into the restaurant had his soft shiny forehead with the profound forehead rows, the cab driver had his all-knowing, humble and innocent gaze that for some reason always reminded me of Bambi, my uncle had his deep voice with the lovely scratch right where it belonged, my friend had his shaving brush, its handle made of hematite and Sephora had his perfume, a smell I could hardly describe...

I carefully chose and collected all those pieces over the past decade, handpicked each of them like flowers, held them as strong as I could and replaced in time some by other, more accurate ones, to create a wonderful bouquet.

I wanted to create a new photograph, the best I could possibly create, of my Loved One, dated with the present, of one who since long ago belonged to the past. And each bittersweet time when I met a new piece of him, each time when I thought I had just collected another piece of the puzzle called Dad, I was reminded that none of those pieces would ever belong to me or come to life. There were merely borrowed for a blink of an eye yet my eyes stole their glimpse forever.

A friend of mine once said that the yearning for the one you love and lost would never diminish and certainly not disappear. He was right.

I must miss my Dad every day because every now and then the snowballs that I would shape of an insatiable longing for him and that I would gently throw behind my back, on my way to nowhere, would turn into an invisible avalanche suddenly overwhelming me from behind and carrying me away... My only salvation in these moments is to melt the avalanche from the inside in order to break free which turns all the snow into all the tears I have, streaming down my face, as rapid and uncontrollable as only an avalanche can be. My heart shrinks to a size beyond my imagination and breathing is nearly impossible. Crushed by the heavy pain and trying to hold myself, the pressure in my head rises and causes a terrible headache. It is the wind that forces itself through my open mouth into my lungs, grabbing the space it is entitled to, that makes me breathe again.

No matter where I am, in my head I start running home as quickly as I can and on my way I think of all the things I possess. I go through every item, every purchase, every piece of paper or fabric. All I need is one thing that was his, one thing that can soothe my pain and save me - for now.

Back at home, in the house we used to live together, I used to run to the bathroom and smell his shaving brush, I would snuggle his sweater or lay my head on his favorite pillow - inhale as slowly and deeply as I could and exhale only as little as necessary...But time carries away not only the people, but also their smells.

In my new home there is no trace of his existence simply because he didn't move in with me. He was not even granted a visit because Life said so and Life didn't grant me an objection. There is nothing left to smell, nothing to touch.

When I reach the peak of my desperation it hits me out of nowhere and I suddenly remember that there will always be one thing that will be with me as long as I live - at all times and at all places:

I would always have my reflection in the mirror. I would stand there, drenched in tears, my eyes burning, red and swollen, giving my best to force my eyes to open and take a good close look at myself because somewhere there, in my reflection, must be a piece of him. A piece that I could not only see, but also touch. A piece that was alive, here and now. One that not even time, the best thief of all, could steal from me and no blow of destiny could ever separate from me.

He was truly a marvelous man and it took me all those years to understand that I would not need or find more words or better words to describe him in order to paint the picture that would do his soul justice. All I needed to do is to describe my longing for him.

I am the daughter of a father who would have given her life to save his.

More than 10 years have passed and this never changed.

Notes from the Living Dead

Lin Yutang:

"I have done my best." That is about all the philosophy of living one needs.

Marie Curie:

Nothing in life is to be feared. It is only to be understood.

Voltaire:

No snowflake in an avalanche ever feels responsible.

Albert Schweitzer:

I don´t know what your destiny will be, but one thing I do know: the only ones among

you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found how to serve.

Emily Dickinson:

That it will never come again it what makes life so sweet .

Leo Tolstoy:

If you want to be happy - be.

Dorothy Thompson:

Only when we are no longer afraid do we begin to live.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky:

The secret of man´s being is not only to live but to have something to live for.

Japanese Proverb:

Fall down seven times, get up eight.

Viktor Frankl:

Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, but rather

he must recognize that it is he who is asked.

Einar Benediktsson:

How destitute is a heart that misses nothing.

George Sand:

There is only one happiness in this life, to love and be loved.

Edith Piaf:

Don´t care what people say. Don´t give a damn about their laws.

Paulo Coehlo:

Happiness: there are a series of rules, and if you fail to follow them,

Your conscious mind will refuse to accept the idea that you´re happy.

Audrey Hepburn:

The best thing to hold onto in life is each other.

George Apollinaire:

Come to the edge, he said. They said: We are afraid. Come to the edge, he said.

They came. He pushed and they flew.

Notes from the Dead

Male,13:

I know what I am doing.

Female, 49:

And I shall be more silent and cold hearted than you are now.

Male, 74:

I married the wrong nag-nag-nag and I lost my life.

Female, 37:

To my father, Vincent M., the sum of one dollar.

Male, 52:

I feel I will not improve and can´t keep on causing you and the children so much misery.

Female, 31:

I must have been born to suffer.

Male, 40:

I am going to leave you forever because I am too sick to go on.

Female, 16:

I have wanted to go out with you and Dad but I was always to afraid to ask for I always felt the answer would be no.

Male, 45:

Cathy don´t go in the bedroom.

Female, 52:

I am so tired and lonely.

Male, 66 :

Dear World, I am leaving you because I am bored.

Female, 61:

One of the great ones is leaving this world when you want to and have nothing to live for.

Female, 59:

Try not to grieve.

Male, 53:

Ah! mon amie, je m´en vais enfin de ce monde, où il faut que le coeur se brise ou se bronze.

Female, 59:

And I shan´t recover this time. I begin to hear voices .

Male, 17:

Despair and depression, together they grow. Hope shall meet hopeless when there´s nowhere to go.

Absence

It is surprising that although I know that life can make quick, fast turns and make people disappear faster than it makes them appear - it still hits me hard when one is taken away.

Erased all of a sudden, abducted, cut out and all I can see are fading footprints in the snow. And I sit and watch the fooprints, trying to trace the person as good as I can, sketch every valley and canyon, every mountain in his face,trying to rebuild this person again using the pictures in my mind, trying to put weight on an invisible to make him heavy again - to make him visible the fading one so that he can keep on making footprints....at least for a while.

And he will walk again, not far, maybe a step or two until he vanishes again and I will start all over, retracing, resketching...And I´ll make him stay as long as I can until the pictures in my mind, one by one, become indistinct, before they too get erased.

One picture will stay with me and not fade. Too light to make you stay again but heavy enough to leave your footprint in my life.

Rest in peace Jerome.