Post aus der Vergangenheit

Wie man es in zwei Sekunden schafft, mich mit einer E-Mail zum Heulen zu kriegen. Könnte daran liegen, dass sie von jemandem kommt, den ich seit 15 Jahren nicht gesehen habe und dass sie mich an jemanden erinnert, der vor zwölf Jahren ums Leben kam.

Dear Anke,

This morning as I was sweeping, my three-year old son got into my vault of mementos and brought me an envelope I haven’t seen in years. The envelope was from my dear uncle Karl’s good friend Anke. As a teen, I received a few cards/letters from her and saved them. After a mild chiding for disrupting my belongings (the entire contents of the treasure chest on the floor, and the one thing he brought me was the blue envelope with red and blue candy-like stripes), I decided a search for Anke was in order. I facebook-searched her to no avail. I then decided to google “Anke Groner Hanover, Germany” and there was her blog, “Blog Like Nobody’s Watching.” So many interesting subjects and links to choose from! I simply clicked “Favorite Entries” as a starting point and there I found: To Karl with Love. While the babblefish/google translation is a bit jumbly, the sentiment is certainly there. Every memorial touching; I laughed. I cried.

Anke, I hope this is your email address as I would love to correspond with you. Your book sounds entertaining and inspiring, congratulations.

Kari in Indiana

Dear Kari,

I don’t know how to begin this e-mail. When I opened you mail yesterday it took me about two seconds to start crying – this was certainly a very surprising and unexpected blast from the past. I still remember you vividly, in the back of Karl’s car, telling me about how fast you went on you boyfriend’s motorcycle. I remember how proud Karl was of you and how often he spoke of you. And of course I remember that it was you who called me to tell me he had died. I don’t even know if the date I wrote into all my blog entries about him is really the day he died – I was in a bit of a shock for weeks afterwards because I simply couldn’t believe that he was gone.

Kari, I really don’t know what to write. This feels very weird and at the same time wonderful.

What I hate most about the fact that Karl isn’t around anymore is that he didn’t get the chance to achieve everything he dreamed of. We met at a very strange time in both of our lives (at least that’s what he said, and I felt the same), and I hope that he is somewhere watching over me and seeing me having become a different (and hopefully) a better person. And I want to believe that his life would have turned out to be as great as mine, and that he would have been happy.

(I’m babbling, forgive me.)

I’ve been living in Hamburg for the past 12 years; I’d just moved here when Karl died. I am a freelance coypwriter for different advertising agencies, and last year I published my first book (as you know). I have a boyfriend, a very old car, an even older apartment, way too many books, and overall I am very happy with how my life turned out to be. And you can find me on Facebook:

I’d love to hear from you again. Thank your son from me for knocking over you stuff.


Seitdem haben wir mehrere Mails hin- und hergeschickt; ich werde hoffentlich dieses Jahr endlich meinen Hintern hochkriegen und in die USA fliegen, wo ich seit Karls Tod nicht mehr war.
Vielleicht wollte ich nie seinen Grabstein sehen.
Vielleicht ist es jetzt an der Zeit.