I received “Option B: Facing Adversity, Building Resilience, and Finding Joy”, one of these easy to read guidebooks as a birthday present. It shares the personal experiences of facebook manager Sheryl Sandberg who lost her 47 year old husband back in 2014. To me however, it didn’t provide many helpful insights. When option A is not available anymore it’s of course best “to kick the shit out of option B.” And to develop most of the strategies she’s mentioning I didn’t needed a guidebook: I’ve already started to do the little things that used to make me happy once instead of waiting to feel happy enough to start them.

The interesting chapter of the book was the one about how people are dealing with people in grief. Some are empathic, but some don’t dare to ask questions or even mention the deceased partner: they fear that their questions may stir up something. Which is nonsensical, because Nadine is present in my mind at almost anytime anyway. Instead, not mentioning her pretends that she has never lived – and that’s disgraceful.

Yes, I sometimes like to talk about her and about how I’m doing, because this issue is far from being over and has to be dealt with in an open manner. So yes, you may ask me questions if you make sure to get the time and cadence right. And if you are clear and distinct about your intentions, because a casually dropped “how are you?” is causing me the trouble to decide wether it’s a sincere question or just a set phrase. But you are no dumb fools, aren’t you?

I’ve been to the Waldfriedhof for more than a hundred times but so far the weather was never really bad. Today it is and the forecast tells me that this is not going to change soon. I went there anyway. Even though the tree shadows the gravesite very well, I stood there with an umbrella that protected me from getting soaking wet within minutes. But the part of Nadine’s tree’s trunk where the nameplate and the little heart are fixed to remained completely dry. A fact I somehow like…

Of course I might have stayed away today – does one visit more or less really matter? To Nadine it propably doesn’t, but to me it does. If I’m in Stuttgart and I got some spare time, I feel the want, need or obligation to go to the Waldfriedhof. I want it because it’s the place I can relate to her the best, I need it because I know it’s a way to channel my grief, and I feel obliged because I still see it as my duty to pay tribute to her beautiful character on an almost daily basis. I don’t think this is going to change soon.

A few years ago I would have never believed that I’m going to have more than one hundred pilgrimages to a gravesite under my belt before I turn fifty. But this became reality. Well, I might not have an accurate count, but I must have passed the three-digit-mark during the week. And what I do know for sure is that it is my birthday tomorrow.

There won’t be any celebrations and I’m not keen on receiving any compliments. Of course not, not this year. If you nevertheless ask me for a wish: I want to wake up tomorrow morning and be greeted by that special smile on Nadine’s face, inspired by her unconditional love. But this is not going to happen. If life is too harsh to offer me that, it can keep the rest too – at least for tomorrow.