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.

My ongoing struggle with the watchdogs from the Waldfriedhof went into another round on Friday. I want to have a heart on Nadine’s tree somewhere so I nailed one under the plate that carries her name and dates. It cannot be seen when the plate isn’t turned around so I hope this score is finally settled now.

It’s Fantasy Film Fest again and I went there for two movies yesterday – I watched one on my own and one together with a friend. I was reminded how much Nadine loved to do such things and how happy they always made her. She has been so easy to please and so grateful for every little fortune she received. I realized that letting her have such joy and the smile on her beautiful face afterwards are one of the things I miss the most.

On Friday it will be three months since Nadine passed away. Most of her personal things have left the house now: her books and some of her crockery went to Tübingen, her clothes are in a second hand shop, a friend of ours took her bike and her cousins shared her baking equipment. All the remaining stuff I deliberately chose to keep.

All these things are qualified to create moments that feel like little deaths to me. The empty tube of toothpaste pictured above is just one example: with mouth hygiene being important for cancer patients, Nadine started using that special medical toothpaste. I took over later and finished it today.

Everytime something like this happens, I’m left with a sad feeling. I don’t know where he got it from, but little Nick once came up with the image that the memory of Nadine is like a snowman slowly melting away in spring. I don’t know how to tell you how much I hate this to happen…