I passed by my old flat the other day. The one in the Heusteigviertel where I was living when Nadine moved to Stuttgart. Where she joined me after about one year and where we spent another year together before we moved on. Life was still fair these days.

Tonight, I’m going to see a concert at the Kiste, the place where the both of us went on the very evening of Nadine’s removal – she would have loved to go there again. Tomorrow, a market with sustainable goods starts at the Marienplatz – she would have enjoyed to visit it very much. On Saturday, the first game of football in the Stadtliga takes place at the Feuerbacher Tal – Nadine would have been happy to meet my teammate’s wifes with whom she became close friends. And on Sunday, my chess club is hosting a rapid tournament – she would have provided two cakes minimum and would have had her fun behind the counter.

It’s so hard to accept that she’s denied all of this. Life doesn’t feel fair anymore.

With the cable car being under maintenance until May 24th, the Waldfriedhof isn’t accessible that easily right now. This means that I’m more often walking the whole way than driving parts of it. My constant search for paths has turned me into an expert for all the possible connections between the south of Stuttgart and it’s most impressive cemetary now.

But there is another important path to find – it’s the one through or around grief. And I’m making progress with this: I’m mostly able to keep my grief under control by allowing it the space it needs and deserves. Waking up, either in the morning or in the middle of the night, is still no fun at all, but during daytime I developped the skill to restrict my teariness to my visits at the Waldfriedhof.

These visits are much needed and I carry them out up to five times a week. They do work best when they are ritualized: It is ideal if I walk some distance first in order to prepare myself mentally, put my headphones on while entering the cemetary, turn her nameplate around to reveal the hidden heart beyond, follow a certain mix between sitting and standing there, pat her tree a gentle goodbye when the music’s over and walk my way back into life afterwards.