Bernard Jan's Blog - Posts Tagged "nonfiction"
Marcel: 17 Years Without You
It’s been all said already, many times, through the rivers of tears and one story that keeps living even 17 years after your departure.
I wish I could have gone with you that day, but I am still here, remembering and trying to keep the memory of you alive—your monument—while I still breathe the air we used to breathe together.
I love you and I miss you. I always will. You were my best friend ever.
***
I stand on the balcony, and three floors below me, with noise and shudders of the building, the traffic glides down the street. Carried by light drifts, the clouds float on the sky, promising rain. I watch Saša and you leaving, pushing your way through the illegally parked cars and bulky waste carried out by tenants because they no longer need it.
It is April 19.
I follow you as you are getting more distant and smaller, shaking from crying, with the body tired of life. Saša has to step on the street to bypass the waste and the cars parked on the sidewalk, and then I lose sight of you. Of the blue bag with yellow handles in which your still warm and curled up body slept. When after a few steps he returns to the sidewalk, I lose him, too.
I gather strength and make the final decision. I strain my thoughts and force my body to move.
I’m on the balcony. I move along its length, not stopping until the end, until I come to the railing. On the table I have left a will with clear instructions, so that animals are not deprived of their rights in case something goes wrong and my plan fails. On top of it I put your favorite photo and the syringes I won’t need anymore.
Now I am free.
Now I live at last.
And I look the enemy in the eyes.
I challenge death to the last duel. Defying it with the strength, I wish to believe, of not-wasted life. My actions will speak for or against me. And one monument I built. Now completed, it will beautify life for someone. Some will grieve and cry, others may be enraged. Many won’t understand. That’s the way with people. Always.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2023
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
Follow me on Twitter.
I wish I could have gone with you that day, but I am still here, remembering and trying to keep the memory of you alive—your monument—while I still breathe the air we used to breathe together.
I love you and I miss you. I always will. You were my best friend ever.
***
I stand on the balcony, and three floors below me, with noise and shudders of the building, the traffic glides down the street. Carried by light drifts, the clouds float on the sky, promising rain. I watch Saša and you leaving, pushing your way through the illegally parked cars and bulky waste carried out by tenants because they no longer need it.
It is April 19.
I follow you as you are getting more distant and smaller, shaking from crying, with the body tired of life. Saša has to step on the street to bypass the waste and the cars parked on the sidewalk, and then I lose sight of you. Of the blue bag with yellow handles in which your still warm and curled up body slept. When after a few steps he returns to the sidewalk, I lose him, too.
I gather strength and make the final decision. I strain my thoughts and force my body to move.
I’m on the balcony. I move along its length, not stopping until the end, until I come to the railing. On the table I have left a will with clear instructions, so that animals are not deprived of their rights in case something goes wrong and my plan fails. On top of it I put your favorite photo and the syringes I won’t need anymore.
Now I am free.
Now I live at last.
And I look the enemy in the eyes.
I challenge death to the last duel. Defying it with the strength, I wish to believe, of not-wasted life. My actions will speak for or against me. And one monument I built. Now completed, it will beautify life for someone. Some will grieve and cry, others may be enraged. Many won’t understand. That’s the way with people. Always.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2023
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
Follow me on Twitter.
A World Without Color Is the Finalist in the 2023 Wishing Shelf Book Awards
My memoir,
A World Without Color
, is a finalist in the 2023 Wishing Shelf Book Awards Category 6: Books for Adults (non-fiction)!
The winners in all categories will be announced on April 1st, 2024.
Children’s author, Billy Bob Buttons, set up the UK based The Wishing Shelf Book Awards twelve years ago. The Wishing Shelf Book Awards is different from most other book awards as it is run by authors and the books are judged by reading groups, not professionals in the publishing industry.
I thank the readers who chose A World Without Color: A True Story of the Last Three Days with my Cat to be among the forty-one finalists in the Books for Adults (non-fiction) category and Billy Bob Buttons for the lovely certificate and medal!
Congratulations to all the finalists of the 2023 Wishing Shelf Book Awards.
Click here for the list of all finalists.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
The winners in all categories will be announced on April 1st, 2024.
Children’s author, Billy Bob Buttons, set up the UK based The Wishing Shelf Book Awards twelve years ago. The Wishing Shelf Book Awards is different from most other book awards as it is run by authors and the books are judged by reading groups, not professionals in the publishing industry.
I thank the readers who chose A World Without Color: A True Story of the Last Three Days with my Cat to be among the forty-one finalists in the Books for Adults (non-fiction) category and Billy Bob Buttons for the lovely certificate and medal!
Congratulations to all the finalists of the 2023 Wishing Shelf Book Awards.
Click here for the list of all finalists.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
Marcel: Another Year Without You
Another challenging year, another months, days, hours, and minutes and you were not here with me, and you never will be. And I needed you. Because these past twelve months were hard. Sometimes very hard. And I couldn’t hold you in my arms to find comfort in you.
It is selfish thinking, but everything about you is painted selfish. You were my world, nothing less than that.
***
Yesterday we had a serious talk with Saša about the possibility of putting you down. We have not talked to you about that, but somehow I feel you foresee it, that you have exposed us and that nothing remains hidden from you. You read all around you like X-rays, and stoically, calmly, and gracefully handle what is coming. I wish I could be brave like you and look death in the face with equal force and dignity. The hopelessness of your nonexistence, which covers me like a magician’s cloak, prevents me from that. Stealing me, stealing you. I do not agree to such a deal! As long as there is a fire in you for one more battle, as long as you do not say it’s over.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2024
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
A World Without Color: A True Story of the Last Three Days with my Cat
It is selfish thinking, but everything about you is painted selfish. You were my world, nothing less than that.
***
Yesterday we had a serious talk with Saša about the possibility of putting you down. We have not talked to you about that, but somehow I feel you foresee it, that you have exposed us and that nothing remains hidden from you. You read all around you like X-rays, and stoically, calmly, and gracefully handle what is coming. I wish I could be brave like you and look death in the face with equal force and dignity. The hopelessness of your nonexistence, which covers me like a magician’s cloak, prevents me from that. Stealing me, stealing you. I do not agree to such a deal! As long as there is a fire in you for one more battle, as long as you do not say it’s over.
***
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2024
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
bernardjan.com
Subscribe to my mailing list.
A World Without Color: A True Story of the Last Three Days with my Cat
Marcel: 19 Years Without You
Tonight, I am watching over you. I leave the desk lamp on, wishing to better guard over the timid work of your lungs from which the rattles and squeals of suffocation no longer emerge after Saša has given you the injections. One could see how you livened up and hurried to the bowl to satisfy your thirst with the very diluted milk. You wanted to boast to Saša that you were doing better and let him know how much his visits mean to you and how much you appreciate what he does for you. If only you knew how proud I am of you!
Your regular breathing lulls me to sleep, from which I awake unaccustomed to the neon light transforming the night in our room into a polar day. I fall to sleep again and twitch, awakened by the beeping of the electric doors of the late-night trams, the roaring engines of occasional cars that chase the empty street, and even rarer passers-by, to whom the nightlife is nothing more alien than that illuminated by daylight. They are both the children of the moon and the children of the sun; unlike me, who always favors the heat of the sun over the beauty of the night sky dotted with myriads of distant stars.
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2025
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
Your regular breathing lulls me to sleep, from which I awake unaccustomed to the neon light transforming the night in our room into a polar day. I fall to sleep again and twitch, awakened by the beeping of the electric doors of the late-night trams, the roaring engines of occasional cars that chase the empty street, and even rarer passers-by, to whom the nightlife is nothing more alien than that illuminated by daylight. They are both the children of the moon and the children of the sun; unlike me, who always favors the heat of the sun over the beauty of the night sky dotted with myriads of distant stars.
In Memoriam
Marcel
April 19, 2006–April 19, 2025
Please continue reading our true story, A World Without Color, as an eBook or a paperback.
Thank you.
BJ
