cups

You knew, I have this thing with cups. You made plenty of fun about me and this particularity.

I cherish certain cups. Some, because they are pretty. And the coffee tastes just right out of them. But the revered ones, those I cherish and keep and muse over while I use them, those I love for the memories attached to them.

Like my kitschy golfers cup – it reminds me of the golden times of setting up house with my first husband.

Or the round, bluey-striped mug, I was gifted from a dear friend upon her departure to her home continent Australia. Always reminding me of her friendship and help through difficult times in Berlin.

I bought two cups a few years back, when I first learned you fell ill. One to keep and one to bring to you once you recovered. As a small reminder, that it was worth the fight and now it’s time to get back to pick up the beauties of life.

As it happened, I never got to give you the cup. You didn’t recover from your illness, you died from it. Leaving me sitting with this message to look at every day: life continues. Indeed, it does, for me. But see this chip on one of the cups? That’s me, now. Alive, but with a part missing. I am not whole anymore. And you are gone. It would have been your birthday, today. You’d have turned 63. And I would have written you a birthday blog entry. Yes, life continues, but very differently so. And so much poorer…

See, there is hardly a day I am not thinking of you. You are still very missed around here.

I’ve been musing those past four years: were you aware, you were going to die, when you did? And just refused to discuss it with us. Or did you think, that none of us was able to handle the truth and just took it on you, to protect us as much as possible? For two or so years, I tended to think, you supressed the grim facts. Who would not.

But since a while, I start putting one and one together. You knew my thing with cups, that’s exactly why you gave me the Milwaukee Museum Cup. For three reasons, I guess; 1. to always remember this family photograph with your man, your kids and you streching your arms just like the wings of the museum, soaring over the waters of lake Michigan, and how happy you were then, 2. to apologize that we wont make it to Milwaukee together as promised, to see your home and this museum and 3. you knew full well, that I’d treasure this cup to my very own end. I will. And you knew, this was your farewell gift to me. So thanks and happy birthday, circumstance…