The golden photo

The smiling man is one of my grandfathers. My mother’s father.

He died when I was five years old, not long before my 6th birthday.

I am sure he would be proud of me now, seeing what I found.

He also had a big heart, wanted to make music, wrote songs and translated books and such things. He didn’t get much for it. One book he translated, was later published, but he didn’t even got noticed nor did anyone thank him for doing so. Instead some distant relative of the original author changed a few words here and there and published it as his own.

When my grandfather wanted to make some music, people who knew about notes, told him this is not possible to play. And he and his family were usually in focus, whenever others thought they did something wrong, he got the blame. And so he also punished his kids, when he shouldn’t have. He knew… he knew what was right.

And so it was up to me, to make his dream come true. Even more than what he might have ever seen. I also want to thank my other grandfather, my father’s father, for giving me money for my computer, back when I was still in school. For giving me shelter, when my father didn’t let me be. For showing me the forest, the animals and for what he couldn’t have.

When my mother once took a photo of him, while he was looking through some trees, he first didn’t know who was on the photo. So he asked her: “Is this your father?” and my mother said: “No it’s you.” He also once said about my mother, in the time before I was born: “Daran muss man doch seine Freude haben!” Meaning, that you should have joy spending time with my mother. And he was right. She wasn’t his daughter, but he was even willing to give us the better of the two houses he had built. For me and my mother. He knew, I would be great and I would take care of her, not like his son, my father.

I am so sorry that I couldn’t save my grandfather, that I gave up too soon and made him sad and hopeless as well. I am the carrier of my grandfathers flames, of their children and wifes. The love they lost and what it did cost.

Here is what I saw in this photo, my mother’s father, who I never really knew because he died when I was still little. I hope you see, what I see or that I can make you see. ❤

I don’t know who the other people are, my mother told me but I forgot again. But all I see, is my grandfather smiling. Carrying the love the others did not see. And then I thought of this. I hope you see it too. ❤

Maybe I will upload some more photos, maybe even some showing me.

Because after all, most of you, haven’t seen me yet. But does it matter? Because you have seen what no one sees, when they see me. You have seen what I carry and carried all inside. My darkest fears, my disgusting thoughts and actions, my struggles and the love I lost and found again. You have seen yourself maybe, or what you never had.

Be free through love.

I hope we will all meet one day. I am scared thinking about it, showing you, my vessel. Seeing you all watching me, while I might not be able to say a word. Like a statue standing there, crying, laughing, falling on my knees.

I hope we will meet one day. But even if not, you now know the way.

Me: cries a little while smiling

Images tell more than thousand words.

Stay safe, know you are loved. ❤ ❤ ❤


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