It’s Nadine’s birthday tomorrow and I’ve got no idea what will happen. I am told that she tried to organize something with her friend Annette during my absence and I wanted to ask her about her plans today. Unfortunately, this was impossible, because she is sleeping almost all the time since yesterday 9 p.m. She was awake for one hour when we had visitors but fell asleep again immediately after they left.

As I told you already, her state deteriorated last Wednesday and she went almost comatose. Most of her medication was cancelled then and on Friday and Saturday she became surprisingly better. But her hallucinations have returned too. It reminded me of her state from the end of November when she had to be treated with Haloperidol. A few drops at a small but constant rate each day did the job then.

Having this in mind, me and her homecaring nurse decided to put these antipsychotics which were called off on Wednesday too back on her menue. The backside of this substance is it’s sedating side-effect. I gave her five plus ten drops during the last two days and now she’s asleep for almost 22 hours. Her sleep is calm and quiet and her breathing is regular and sounds relaxed, so I’m not too worried. But I’ve got no idea how this will continue and how it will affect her birthday. We have to wait and see…

The day I met Nadine was an auspicious day. It changed my life. I think we were in HDFL and we started talking and I realized how cool this gal was! She and I talked about books and languages and culture and In those short two weeks before she returned to Germany, a friendship was forged. Nadine, you opened a door to a whole world for me and I met so many wonderful people because of you – for a wonderful year you were my family – and then you all left and I was bereft.

We would gather for coffee and cookies at 3, cook meals together, discuss books, share languages and hopes and dreams – the world got much larger and richer for the connections. And when I came to Germany, you and Christine showed me your country – Frankfurt, Strasbourg, Heidelberg, Tuebingen, (remember the Weisswurst and the boat during the race?). We traveled to Munich and listen to Oompahpah music in the English Garten and drank beer and ate pretzels and laughed and walked to the castle. And the train to Belgium with castle after castle to see the Magritte exhibit – all those baguettes floating in the clouds and touring the central square and tea house – all special memories. And we met your parents in Reutlingen and walked the beautiful green town in early summer. I remember that day thinking we will be here together again…

I never imagined how quickly twenty years could pass or how the twists and turns in the path would shape that journey. Do you remember that damn Thirty years war paper?! You hated that thing but the challenge of translating German poetry into English… You were all in! And then you worked as an English teacher – I cannot imagine a more patient and gifted teacher and linguist! It was so painful to say goodbye at the airport at the end of that wonderful time. I wish I could be there now to make you tea, and laugh together, and give you the best hug ever. We will light our candle and grab our coffee and we will talk all night and remember all the beautiful moments we shared! And I will wear die schnekken earrings and we will be 25 again!

Love you, Jess

P.S.: The picture shows a sunset in Abilene, Kansas in September 2016

Dear Nadinechen,

Remember our marathon conversions, those Saturdays in Kansas, when we’d start at one coffee shop, then move to a bookstore, then on to another coffee shop, and then a stop at Liberty Hall to pick up a few videos?  You’d bring over food – cheese, bread, nuts, dates, and little oranges that you’d unwrap like presents, all arranged on a plate resembling a still-life painting. You knew how to cozy up a room, an occasion, a conversation. And we could laugh. Remember when we were trying to clean the VHS player heads with a cotton ball taped to the end of a pencil and the cotton ball came off inside the VHS player? We laughed so long and hard we couldn’t see straight to watch the movies we’d picked up earlier in the day. And we’d talk and figure out our days and hearts and life and future.

You taught me so much – how to be a friend, how to be quiet sometimes, how to let the other person take the dance step, how to dress well, how to trust. You and dear wonderful Jens came to our wedding near Boston. You both saved the day, helping us set up, talking with everyone, smoothing the way. I always marveled how you talked with people, especially children – with style and grace and curiosity. And I remember on the morning of the big day, when I was teary-eyed, so scared about the jump I was about to make, I asked you: “Am I doing the right thing?”  And you replied: “Yay, I think so. You love each other, and I know you’ll figure out the rest.” I’ll never forget the calm that came over me hearing those words. That’s what you did, my sister-friend – you peered into darkness to find light.

So many memories crowd: our conversations about writing and words; your phone calls ending with – “I’ll stop by”; how you welcomed me to your life in Germany, inviting me to spend the holidays with your parents and with Annika. Remember, the three of us traveling to Stockholm over the New Year’s holiday ten years ago? What fun we had! And I remember, too, the afternoon I sobbed on Barry’s back step in Kansas when you were moving back to Germany. Oh, I didn’t want you to go.

We spent most of our friendship under the Kansas sky. This is my favorite paragraph by my favorite writer of the American plains, Willa Cather. The story takes place in the western prairies of Nebraska; the narrator, Jim Burden, is speaking:

“I sat down in the middle of the garden, where snakes could scarcely approach unseen, and leaned my back against a warm yellow pumpkin. There were some ground-cherry bushes growing along the furrows, full of fruit. I turned back the papery triangular sheaths that protected the berries and ate a few. All about me giant grasshoppers, twice as big as any I had ever seen, were doing acrobatic feats among the dried vines.  The gophers scurried up and down the ploughed ground. There in the sheltered draw-bottom the wind did not blow very hard, but I could hear it singing its humming tune up on the level, and I could see the tall grasses wave. The earth was warm under me and warm as I crumbled it through my fingers. Queer little red bugs came out and moved in slow squadrons around me. Their backs were polished vermilion, with black spots. I kept as still as I could. Nothing happened. I did not expect anything to happen. I was something that lay under the sun and felt it, like the pumpkins, and I did not want to be anything more. I was entirely happy. Perhaps we feel like that when we die and become a part of something entire, whether it is sun and air, or goodness and knowledge. At any rate, that is happiness; to be dissolved into something complete and great. When it comes to one, it comes as naturally as sleep.”

Willa Cather, My Antonia, 1918

I love you with all my heart, Nadinechen, my sister-friend. That’s where I’ll find you in memories and dreams until we meet again.

Natalie